


just like heaven

by tozierbraks



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Drug Use, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pining, Underage Drinking, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tozierbraks/pseuds/tozierbraks
Summary: It's easy for Richie to be in love with Bill when he thinks Bill is straight, but what now that Stan has blown that to pieces?





	1. lost and lonely

**Author's Note:**

> ...idk, my boys are under-appreciated so here i am.
> 
> thanks to r @sunflowerstozier on tumblr for beta-ing <3

 

“So just tell him.” Beverly’s voice echoed from her closet as she dug around looking for her jacket. Richie snorted a laugh and fell backwards on her bed, letting his fingers drag on the carpet as his hand swung down.  
  
“You give shit love advice.”  
  
“Maybe, but you’re using the word ‘love’ now. Before it was just ‘like’ so clearly I’m helping.” She taunted, shrieking as she dodged the pillow Richie chucked at her as she left the closet, her jacket now snugly around her shoulders. She fell beside Richie on the bed and put an arm around his waist, pulling him on his side so they were face to face. “Hey, serious best friend face on, I don’t really know what you should do yet. I think maybe you just have to talk-” Richie started to whine at this but Bev cleared her throat and started again, louder this time. “You might just have to _talk_ to him, Richie.”  
  
“That’s the scariest idea you’ve ever had, and I’ve literally set myself on fire because you told me to.” Richie’s arm came up to rest on Beverly’s and he tapped his fingers restlessly on her elbow. He put on a mocking tone and said “Hey, probably straight best friend, I think I wanna start holding your hand and kissing you, y’know, in the gay way. And I _definitely_ wanna start fucking you, also in the gay way.” Beverly’s giggles were absorbed in Richie’s shirt as she tried to shove him off the bed. She pulled her head back to meet his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh.  
  
“Okay listen,” she said in a loud whisper, “I know telling you this is going to bite me in the ass but…” her face twisted into half a smile, “maybe don’t worry so much about the straight part?”

Richie’s mouth fell open and he moved to grab her arm but she slipped up and out of his reach, her laugh streaming behind her as she bolted from her bedroom.  
  
“Marsh! Get back here!” he yelled after her.  
  
“Nu-uh, I’ve already said too much! Ex-to-ex confidentiality!”  
  
Richie growled and grabbed his coat, fumbling with his keys as he followed her out the door.  
 

* * *

  
   
The sun had already set by the time they pulled up to the quarry. Bev unlocked her door and pushed it open before Richie had even come to a stop. She bounded over to where Ben, Stan, and Mike were already sitting and chose the seat next to Ben. Richie followed soon after, rubbing the back of his neck as he plopped next to Stan on one of the three logs they had arranged in a triangle three years ago. He stretched his legs with a loud groan, leaning obnoxiously into Stan’s side before resting his head on his shoulder.

“Good evening Michael, Benjamin, Staniel.” he drawled in an shitty southern accent “Did Edward and Billiam bail?”  
  
“They’re collecting wood for the fire,” Stan said, nodding his head towards the nearby forest.

Before Richie could get out a joke about how _he_ had some wood for Stan’s fire Eddie came stomping out of the woods with an armful of twigs and leaves. He dumped them unceremoniously next to their makeshift fire pit. It was nothing but a circle of large rocks but once it passed Ben’s safety standards it was good enough for the rest. Since then they had spent nearly all of their summer nights here. It had become a sacred spot for them. It held three years of firsts and laughter, and with it three years of lasts and hurt. This summer would be the last that they were all together, they were spending as much time here as possible.  
Eddie huffed as he sat down on Richie’s other side. He pulled his leg up and started inspecting himself closely for ticks.

“Hey, Eds.”

Eddie only responded with a small grunt, not meeting Richie’s eyes until he was satisfied that he was parasite free. They could hear Bill before they saw him, the rustling trees announcing his arrival. He balanced a pile of thicker branches in both arms. Richie skimmed his face, his eyes drawn to the way Bill’s hair was falling in his eyes.

“H-Hey Bev, R-Richie.” He leaned down to drop the branches and began to arrange the smaller pieces from Eddie’s pile in the middle of the pit. He struck a match and tossed it in. When he was satisfied with the small flame he carefully placed some of the larger logs around it before settling himself next to Mike. This put him directly across from Richie who watched as Bill tried to blow the hair out of his eyes before Bev reached over and pushed it off his forehead, chuckling softly at him.  
  
Richie’s eyes traced down Bill’s face and lingered on a small cut on his cheek from a swinging tree branch. They landed on his lips tilted up in a crooked smile. Richie could feel himself heating up, his heart beating hard and a bit of adrenaline running through his chest. Wanting Bill didn’t feel like anything he had felt before. It wasn’t the soft, gushing puppy love he had held for Eddie and it wasn’t the straight to the gut arousal he found for Bev when they had tried that out for a few months. When Richie thought of Bill he felt it all at once, wanting in the same breath to be the one brushing the hair out of his eyes and to push him off of his seat and pin him to the ground between his thighs.

“Richie?” Stan’s voice pulled him back, soft and firm.  
  
“Hmm?” he hummed back, lifting his head from Stan’s shoulder and pushing his glasses up his nose.  
  
“Toss me your keys so I can grab the booze from your truck.” Bev repeated looking a little annoyed.  
  
“Since when do I lock it?”  
  
Bev rolled her eyes but lifted herself from her seat, pulling Ben behind her as she marched towards the old Ford.

“Don’t stain the upholstery!” Richie called after them. Bev’s middle finger waved back at him. As he turned back to the group her words from earlier slammed back to him, _“maybe don’t worry so much about the straight part.”_ They made him feel a little breathless. Fuck it, it had been forever since Bill and Bev broke up, how would she still know? Just because fifteen year old Bill had thought about kissing a boy once didn’t mean it meant anything now.  
  
Bev walked up behind him and pushed the bottle of rum into his chest. He pulled it from her hands and unscrewed the cap quickly, taking a long pull. Then he turned to wave it in Eddie’s face. Eddie grimaced but took it anyways. He wiped the top off with his t-shirt before taking his own swig and handing it off to Ben.

“Alright, what’s the game for tonight?” Richie asked, his eyes roving around the circle. More often than not it didn’t matter, whatever game they chose was usually abandoned after the booze had gone around a few times.  
  
“Not Never Have I Ever,” Eddie piped up. “You guys just target me. ‘Never have I ever had a last name starting with K’ isn’t fair game.”  
  
“Pfft, Eds, you know my personal favorite to get you out is ‘never have I ever sucked a dick in the back of my mom’s car.’” Richie felt his arm being pelted with smacks as the circle erupted with laughter. Even Ben had to hide behind his hand before giving Eddie an apologetic look. It stopped abruptly when Bill said from across the circle,

“Fine, Eddie, t-truth or dare?” Eddie placed his chin in his hands and stared cautiously at Bill.  
  
“Truth.”  
  
“What’s it like to s-suck a dick in the b-b-back of your mom’s car?” Bill barely got the words out through a huge grin. They all fell apart again, even Eddie. Richie fell sideways into Stan’s lap and clutched his sides.  
  
“Jesus fuck Bill, definitely a good one.”

“Okay that makes it my turn.” Eddie giggled.  
  
“You didn’t answer the question.” Stan replied, his expression deadly serious as he tried to keep the mirth in his eyes from spilling out. Eddie pulled the rum from Richie’s lap and downed another mouthful before staring in Stan’s eyes.  
  
“Why Stan, wanna find out?” More laughter, but they let Eddie off the hook. His eyes scanned the circle and landed on Ben. “Truth or dare, Ben?”  
  
“Dare, I guess.”  
  
“Okay...recite one of your poems to someone. Not Beverly.”

Ben’s cheeks flushed at the implication but he surveyed the group before kneeling in front of Bill and taking one of his hands. He put on a dramatic, dreamy voice as he began to speak. Richie used the opportunity to stare at Bill. His cheeks were tinged red and the fire danced shadows over his high cheekbones. He held Ben’s gaze as long as he could but when the poem made an especially explicit metaphor Bill couldn’t help but break it, his eyes lifting as he laughed. They locked with Richie’s and his smile widened. It reached all the way to his eyes and they stayed like that for a long moment, Richie admiring the light flickering against the bright blue. _“maybe don’t worry so much about the straight part.”_

Ben wrapped up his poem and took a bow to the round of applause from his friends. He settled back down and the game stagnated while the rum made a few passes and they fell into mindless chatter. It was Mike who finally spoke up again.

“Bill, truth or dare.” Bill raised his eyebrows at the challenge.  
  
“Dare.”  
  
“Jump in the quarry. Clothes on.”

Bill only laughed and moved to stand. He paused, crouched with his hands on his knees.  
  
“R-Richie, truth or d-d-dare.” Eddie began to interrupt, claiming that Bill had to finish his dare first. But Richie glanced up, curious.  
  
“Dare.” He hadn’t refused a dare from Bill since they were thirteen.  
  
“Jump with me.” Bill extended his hand and Richie grabbed it, trying to ignore the heat where their skin met, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.  
  
“Fuck you, Denbrough.” But he grinned and returned Bill’s bold stare.

He turned to face Stan again “You’re up when I get back. Pick dare.” Then he tightened his grip on Bill’s hand and pulled them both toward the cliff, his long legs sprinting towards the edge. They barely paused to look at each other before they were leaping and falling. Richie was swallowed by the water and barely remembered to grab his glasses before they swam off his face. He started to push his way back up when he felt Bill’s hand grab his shirt, pulling them up together. When they surfaced they were both laughing wildly, gasping for air. Richie felt a tug on his shirt and looked down to see that Bill was still holding him, his laughter causing him to shake and pull Richie closer until their foreheads touched.

“Um, guys? Bev asked me to come make sure you were...alive, I guess.” Ben’s voice fell from the top of the cliff and they looked up.  
  
“Tell her no!” Richie yelled back. The adrenaline still pumping through him made him antsy. He waved his hand through the water and it brushed Bill’s hip. His fingers clenched automatically, only inches away from actually grabbing him. Suddenly Bill dropped his own hand and began paddling towards the small nearby beach.  
  
“Let’s g-g-go, last one b-back jumps again!”

They scaled the rocks, clothes dripping heavily. Richie shook his long hair out of his face, spraying Bill and earning himself a small shove. Bill tried to squeeze out his shirt but gave up quickly and instead just peeled it off, wringing it out beside him. Shit. Richie was pretty sure the entire universe could hear him swallow so hard it hurt. He watched the beads of water run from Bill’s hair down his muscled frame and actually had to choke back a laugh. Shit like this didn’t actually happen. He would wake up soon warm in his bed with a hard-on, but hopefully not before he could bring this familiar dream around to its usual happy ending.

“Damn, Big Bill, showing off for me?”  
  
“You’re the one st-st-staring, Tozier.” He whipped his shirt at Richie.  
  
“Harder, baby!” Richie squealed and he ran over to the fire, giving his hair another good shake as he stood over Stan who had slid to the end of their log to sit closer to Mike. He was leaning in close and watching Mike with rapt attention as he told Stan about some book he had just finished.  Richie looked down at them with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

“Stanley, truth or dare?” Stan shook his head. Richie grabbed his shoulder and repeated, “Stan, truth or dare?”  
  
“Fine, truth.”  
  
“Nu-uh, I already told you to pick dare.” Richie accepted the bottle of rum Eddie was offering but only held it while he looked at Stan expectantly. Stan tilted his head to stare back, eyes narrowing, asking a question Richie refused to answer.  
  
“Then dare, I guess.”  
  
“Kiss Mike.”

It was suddenly silent as the other four halted their conversation. Bev started to speak in a quiet voice,  
  
“Richie, don-”  
  
But Richie shushed her and maintained eye contact with Stan, nodding enthusiastically. They remained frozen. Ben tried to speak but before he could Stan took a deep breath and turned to face a wide-eyed Mike. He straightened his back and with a final exhale darted in, grabbing Mike’s collar to steady himself as he pressed their lips together. Mike’s hands wrapped around his back and held him close, returning the kiss. Richie whooped and clapped Stan on the back, the first in a loud round of cheers. Stan’s cheeks were flushed when he turned back to the group. He shrugged but his smile beamed. When he started to scoot away Mike grabbed him tighter.  
“Nope, this isn’t over yet.” He stood and reached for Stan’s hand. When he offered it, Mike hauled him to his feet and reached behind him, pulling him up and wrapping Stan’s thighs around his waist. He kissed Stan again, harder, and began to walk them through the dark down a nearby trail. Bev’s enthusiastic cheer followed them until they were out of sight.

“Holy shit.” Eddie said.  
  
“Richie, you really could have gone too far...” Bev began, but soon her face was broke into a grin.  
  
“Please, that was the safest fucking bet I’ve ever made. They’ve been snuggling up for months now and the eye-fucking tonight was unreal.”  
  
“You’re right, it has been.” Bev winked at him and he rolled his eyes before hovering himself over the fire to dry his drenched clothes. He turned to work on his back and found Bill staring after Stan and Mike, an almost dazed look on his face.

“Jealous, Bill? Is it Hanlon’s big strong farm boy arms? Or maybe Stan the Man’s tight little a-”  
  
“Sh-shu-shu-shut u-uh-up, R-Ru-Richie.” Bill said, his head nodding with the effort to get the words out. Richie was preparing his reply when Bill’s eyes snapped to his own. Bill’s eyebrows were pulled tightly together and his eyes searched Richie’s before dropping back to the fire. He busied himself with rearranging logs, pushing Richie’s waist to move him out of the way.

 _“maybe don’t worry so much about the straight part”_  
_  
_ The words made Richie’s head spin. They made his chest swell with some kind of hope that was chased by terror. It was easier when it was impossible. If Bill really did like guys then he _could_ like Richie. But it looked like he liked Mike, or maybe Stan and that made Richie’s insides twist into a painful knot. He could handle not being an option, but the idea that he could be and just isn’t hurt like hell.

Richie gave up on trying to dry out and sat down. He finally drank from the rum that Eddie had handed him and let himself be pulled into a conversation with Eddie and Bev about who would win in a fight between Storm and Aquaman. When Bill sat down next to him, his shirtless back brushed Richie’s shoulder, briefly interrupting his passionate argument. Richie was hyper aware of the empty log across from them that Bill had not chosen. But when Mike and Stan came stumbling out of the woods it was obvious, Bill just wanted to leave it open for them to share. Nothing to do with Richie. The rest of the night dissolved into a haze of smoke and soon they were unrolling the sleeping bags they kept in the back of Richie’s truck. From his spot between Eddie and Stan Richie watched Bill’s back while he put out the fire. He memorized the way the muscles in his shoulders moved and knew he’d be seeing them while he slept.

* * *

  It was a week before Richie was alone with Stan again. They lounged in Stan’s bedroom half watching the TV on the dresser.

“C’mon Stan,” Richie whined. “I need details. I always imagined Mike would be like, I dunno, sweet, he’s that guy who makes love instead of fucking, right?”  
  
“Please stop imagining anything about Mike or the fucking he may be doing.”  
  
“Okay but he _is_ doing it, just to be crystal fucking clear, right? It’s all for research. I want a ranking of best to worst between us. Help me fill in the gaps.” Stan kept his face pointedly towards the TV. “Just kissing, then. Where does he rank out of the Losers you’ve kissed?” Stan snorted and finally turned to face him.  
  
“Top of the list, Richie. And before you ask you’re down at the bottom, fourth.”

“Give me another chance, Stanny, that wasn’t a real one. Let me claim the top sp - wait, fourth? I thought you were only at three.” Stan looked to the ceiling and lazily tapped his fingers as he began listing names:  
  
“You, Mike, Ben, Bill. Four.”  
  
“When did Big Bill join the list?” There was no jealousy in Richie’s tone. When you go to every party with the same six people shit happens during all those stupid games teenagers use as an excuse to start kissing each other. That was how Stan and Ben ended up sharing an awkward kiss during a round of spin the bottle a few years ago. He was ready for some similar story. Instead, Stan sat up so they were facing each other and pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully.

“Well, a couple of years ago Bill and I spent a lot of time together. Alone. It seemed like it made sense but obviously we decided it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t what we wanted.” Richie’s next words were sputtered and high-pitched.  
  
“You dated Bill? Bill Denbrough? Like, Stuttering Bill?”  
  
“I don’t know if I would call it that. Close, I guess.”  
  
“Yeah okay Semantic Stanley, but you fucking spent time alone together. Like, romantic time? Kissing time? Oh my god did you fuck Bill?” Richie blabbered, pushing his hand through his dark hair while Stan sat and watched with a steady gaze.

“Finished?” He spoke up when Richie stopped for a breath. “Yes, it was ‘romantic time.’ Yes, I kissed Bill. No, I didn’t fuck Bill...” But his eyes wandered while he considered this. “Technically.” He finished, a smile tugging at one corner of his lips at some private joke with himself.  
  
“So he fucked you?”  
  
“No, Richie. We were barely sixteen, it never went that far.” Richie’s mouth hung open, finally frozen. When he spoke again it was softer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Stan shrugged, “It wasn’t only mine to tell. We never really talked about telling anyone, it was only about a month so it was over before we even knew if it was anything. I couldn’t share that without permission.” Richie’s hand was still gripped tightly in his hair. His fist clenched once before he dropped it, exhaling loudly. He nodded, his eyes trained on the floor. The secret stung but he couldn’t be mad when Stan was just being fucking thoughtful. He raised his head and pulled on a weak smile.

“So what was it? Couldn’t get it up with him stuttering through the dirty talk? He decided pressed khakis just aren’t his thing?” Stan only rolled his eyes. Richie tried to keep his playful tone, “Did Bill figure out that maybe dick just isn’t his bag, that he’s sticking to the ladies?”  
  
Stan smirked. “Seems unlikely after that much enthusiasm.” Richie choked out a laugh and held his hand up for a high five. To his surprise Stan accepted before chuckling. They stayed sitting, cross-legged and facing each other. Stan didn’t take his eyes from Richie’s face. Richie knew he was waiting.

“I really like him, Stan.”  
  
“I know.”

Richie’s shoulders slumped and he let himself fall to the ground, twisting so that his head rested on Stan’s thigh. Stan leaned back against his bed and put a hand in Richie’s hair. The silence that followed was calm and comfortable.

* * *

 

Away from Stan’s calming presence Richie felt a weight on his chest as he drove home. It grew heavier every second. He replayed it over again, Stan and Mike disappearing into the trees and Bill’s hurt, melancholic expression. The strained reaction to Richie’s teasing. It was clicking into place. Bill did like boys, he just didn’t like Richie. He liked Stan. _The one that got away_ , Richie thought to himself as he exhaled an angry laugh through his nose. When he pulled into his driveway Richie noticed that his knuckles had turned white on the steering wheel. Turning off his headlights and turning up his music he let the weight fall from his chest, leaving thick, wet tracks on his cheeks as it went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to say hopefully fewer tears next chapter but...that's not the case.


	2. just like a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the official theme song for this fic is literally anything by the cure but you can listen to the namesake here!  
> https://genius.com/The-cure-just-like-heaven-lyrics

_Richie’s felt damp spots on his shoulder. He tightened his arms around a shaking Bill, pulling his face deeper into his own neck. With one arm pinned under his side Bill moved the other behind Richie’s back, grasping onto his t-shirt tightly. When Richie looked down to Bill’s face he saw the thin, gaunt face of Bill at thirteen. They were surrounded by the pale blue walls of Bill’s bedroom, still scattered with posters of childhood heroes. A wracking sob shook Bill beside him.  
  
“I-ih-it’s m-mu-my fault R-Richie. M-my -”  
  
“It’s nobody’s fucking fault, Bill. Definitely not yours.” His voice came out high, a relic of adolescence. The room around Richie was fuzzy with soft lines, somewhere between a dream and a memory.  
  
“I f-fuck-fucking miss him.”  
  
Richie brought his hand up to tangle in Bill’s hair and just held him there against his own chest, grounding him. “Of course you do Bill, that’s your fucking brother.” This brought a fresh round of sobs,  
  
“I’m s-s-sorry.” Bill choked.  
  
“Jesus, Bill, don’t do that.” Richie buried his face into the top of Bill’s hair as the room around them faded. The walls became a deeper, navy blue and the posters became scattered with cult horror movie titles.  
  
When Richie looked down again he saw Bill as he was now at eighteen, his jaw broadened and his face full and bright. There were still tears clinging to his eyelashes when he looked up at Richie. This time Richie pushed Bill gently onto his back and leaned over him. He ran his thumb over Bill’s cheek, streaking a tear across it. He lowered himself slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to Bill’s forehead before moving to both of his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose. Pulling back he felt Bill grasping at his shirt and keeping him close. Richie kept his eyes closed and felt the anticipation run up his spine, trembling slightly when he finally felt Bill’s lips press against his own. The arm holding himself up buckled and he let his chest fall against Bill’s as they moved together. Bill’s arms came up to wrap around Richie’s waist and he rolled them back on their sides, maintaining the maddeningly slow kiss.  
  
__Suddenly the air was filled with the unmistakable smell of Bill, his sharp shampoo and mint body wash making Richie’s head spin. He groaned a little and Bill kissed him harder. His hand ran down Bill’s side, stopping to grab his hip. Richie breathed a sharp inhale when Bill’s knee moved between his legs, his thigh moving to press against him. His fingers tightened on Bill’s hip and he began to grind down, biting gently on Bill’s lip as he moaned quietly. His hand moved to dip under Bill’s waistband and then -_  
  
He was blinking bright sunlight out of his eyes. He lifted his face from where it was buried in Bill’s pillow and rolled his eyes, that would explain the smell. Well, that and the fact that Bill was only inches in front of him, his thigh actually pressing against Richie’s right above his knee. Surveying the room Richie found that Stan and Ben had already left their spots on Bill’s floor while Bev, Mike, and Eddie lay sprawled under piles of blankets. Eddie’s mouth was hanging open and Richie looked around for something to throw but came up short. He fell back against the pillow with a loud sigh, glaring at Bill’s sleeping face. His cute, stupid, handsome, dumb sleeping face. Richie flipped onto his back and groaned loudly, kicking his legs against the mattress rapidly.  
“Wh-what the fuck, Richie.” Bill gumbled without opening his eyes. He lifted an arm to shove him away but Richie caught his wrist and licked a thick stripe over his palm. Bill’s eyes shot open and he tried to wrench his arm away, managing to drag his hand down Richie’s cheek.  
  
“No wai-” was all Richie could squeak out before Bill was moving to his knees, pinning one of Richie’s thighs between them. _Shit_. The next thing he saw was Bill’s dark pillowcase as it was swung towards his face. He barely got an arm between them before he was being pelted with blows. But Richie barely felt them, all of his attention laser focused on the weight of Bill’s leg pressing down on the mattress between his own. He tried to wiggle himself higher on the bed, desperate to put some space between Bill and his stubborn erection.  
  
“Okay, okay, I surrender!” He yelled in his best British general impression. Bill gave one last smack before rolling over and wrapping himself back in the blanket. Several moments of quiet and then:  
  
“Eddieeeee.” Richie whined. No answer.  
  
“Edssss.” Silence.  
  
“Eddieeeeeee.”  
  
“What the fuck do you want?”  
  
“Smells like pancakes downstairs.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Get me some.” Eddie just pulled his blanket over his head and pressed his hands tightly to his ears. Pouting, Richie resigned himself to laying in silence while tapping his fingers against his stomach. Mike stood, stretched, and waved to him as he headed downstairs. He flipped himself onto his side and watched the soft rise and fall of Bill’s back. The sunlight from the window behind them highlighted the auburn streaks in his brown hair and Richie itched to bury his face in Bill’s neck and wrap an arm around his waist.  
_God, that’s so gay._ He grinned to himself but he moved an inch closer, his body arched around Bill’s from a half-foot away.

* * *

The next time he woke up he was alone. He let his limbs stretch out over the bed before turning his head to look at the family photo on Bill’s bedside table.  
  
“G’morning, Georgie.” he mumbled.  
  
Downstairs he was greeted by the bright, sterile Denbrough living room. The house was clean and comfortable. Technically it was everything a home should be. Still, Richie shivered when he looked at the empty couch, remembering the countless times he had walked in to Bill sitting there alone. Even at thirteen years old Bill would set the TV to the boring evening news nearly every night but his parents almost never took the bait. Instead Richie would fill the space beside him. Some of his favorite voices had been honed there, weird news stories gave plenty of inspiration with their cast of characters. Anything to make Bill laugh.  
  
It had been ten days since Stan’s confession. Ten days for Richie to simmer with thoughts of Stan and Bill sneaking kisses, holding hands, exchanging dramatic declarations of love that Richie was definitely not probably exaggerating. That wasn’t really the part that hurt, though. At sixteen Richie had been blissfully happy himself, he didn’t need sixteen year old Bill. He needed this one. But the more he looked the more he noticed Bill’s averted eyes when Mike wrapped his arms around Stan. The more he listened the more he heard the stutter grow intense when Stan fell easily into Mike’s lap.  
  
When he had confronted Bev about this news she had been clueless.  
  
“I had no idea about the Stan thing. But he was the first person I told that I thought I was bi... and he said he thought he was too. Never told me about Stan. Wow. Isn’t this good news, though? You actually have a shot.” Richie hadn’t been able to tell her that he was sure he didn’t.  
  
Now ten days later Richie felt his heart sink deeper into his ass every time he caught Bill’s aching, deflected looks. This morning was no exception as he found Bill pointedly staring at him in an obvious attempt to ignore Stan and Mike leaning into each other at the kitchen table. He didn’t have time to dwell though. Bev cleared her throat loudly and shot Ben a look, eyebrows raised. He blinked but nodded, pushing back from the table and collecting the empty plates before addressing Bill.  
  
“Bill, we still going on the UMaine tour today?” Bill jumped a little as he snapped out of his head.  
  
“Y-yeah, let me just g-gu-grab my stuff. Um, Richie will you c-c-come help?  
  
“Uhh, I guess?” He followed Bill up the stairs and watched him shuffle with papers on his desk. Bill grabbed his wallet but promptly dropped it when he turned back to face Richie.  
  
“Sh-shit. H-hey Rich, uh are you b-bu-busy t-tonight?” Richie turned from where he was absentmindedly thumbing through Bill’s records.  
  
“Hm? Tonight?” _Shit shit shit, don’t fuck it up Tozier._ Tomorrow was Bill’s birthday but his parents were gone tonight which meant tonight was his surprise party, spearheaded mostly by Bev. If Richie ruined it now she might actually have his head on a stick.  
  
“Nope, nothing going on tonight.”  
  
“W-wou-wou, will y-you meet me at the qu-quarry then?”  
  
_Fuck fuck fuck._ Richie ran his hand through his hair.  
_  
_ “I’ll do ya one better, I’ll pick you up from Haystack’s when you get back. We’ll go together.”  
  
Bill nodded, ducking his head and hurrying past Richie to meet Ben at the front door. _Weird_. Richie sauntered back down the stairs to see Bev already dishing out party prep jobs.  
  
“Stan and Mike, you’re on cake and snacks duty. I’m securing the booze. Eddie and Richie: decorations.” Richie slid his eyes to meet Eddie’s and they tried to stifle their laughter. Decorating was not really their forte. A disastrous attempt to spice up Eddie’s bedroom decor last year had nearly landed him his second broken arm.  
  
“Heads up, Bev. Bill tried to make plans for tonight. Wanted me to meet him at the quarry. Don’t worry, my quick wit saved us all and I’m picking him up at Ben’s. I’ll just bring him back here.”  
She hummed an acknowledgement and waved him towards the box of streamers she had brought in from her car. Then she was disappearing, Mike and Stan on her heels.  
  
Eddie approached the box and grabbed a strand of blue streamers, unrolling the end. He looked at Richie dubiously.  
  
“So...just, anywhere?” This sent them back into a fit of giggles. They set about finding scissors and tape and settled into a comfortable quiet, each wrapped up in their own work until Eddie called from the next room.  
  
“Hey Rich, come lift me up so I can put some in this door.”  
  
“Coming, dear.” His hands wrapped around Eddie’s waist and hoisted him long enough for Eddie to place streamers in each of the corners. Satisfied with his work, Eddie followed Richie back into the living room. His jaw dropped.  
  
“Richie what the fuck?!” On the wall across from them the streamers had been crudely cut and taped in the shape of an enormous penis, complete with ribbons of cum. Richie beamed. Eddie tried to scowl but Richie looked so proud he had to laugh. “I think you have to take it down though, it’s not just us tonight.” Richie was scandalized.  
  
“Excuse me but that dick is staying put. It’s art. My greatest achievement. My _magnum_ opus if you will.”  
  
“Fine, Bev can make the call, I’m not your wrangler today. Want a sandwich?”  
  
“Definitely, but no -”  
  
“No mayo. I know, Rich.” Eddie waved dismissively and walked into the kitchen.  
  
The only thing left in the box of decorations was a giant banner, large gold letters strung together to spell HAPPY BIRTHDAY. With a glint in his eye Richie snagged it and untied the knot keeping the letters on the string. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of material here, he found no especially intriguing ways to rearrange them. He settled for an absurd DAY HAPPY BIRTH and taped it above the wide entry to the kitchen.  
  
He was whistling _Happy Birthday_ as he plopped on the couch to wait for Eddie. His eyes skimmed the photos lined up precisely on the walls. Bill and Georgie looking boastful while holding up freshly caught fish, Mr. Denbrough holding both boys on his shoulders, all four family members posed perfectly in a studio. Not a single picture was less than five years old, Bill never getting older than thirteen in any of them. Richie found himself searching for Bill in a room full of him. He desperately wanted to sense Bill’s warm energy but came up short. Here, in this house, Bill was frozen.  
  
A cold ceramic plate fell on his lap quickly followed by Eddie’s outstretched legs as he fell on the couch beside him.  
  
“Shit, Eds, you’re like a ninja. So quiet, so nimble...so flexible.”  
  
“Is that even like, a thing ninjas are known for?”  
  
“Dunno. But it’s what you’re known for.” He winked and tore a bite out of his sandwich. Eddie ignored him but spoke up again.  
  
“So, Bill invited you to the quarry tonight?”  
  
“Mm-hmmph.” Crumbs threatened to spill onto Eddie’s calves where they still rested over Richie’s thighs.  
  
“Don’t you think that’s weird? Like, since when does he ask any of us in private like that?” Eddie’s voice was unsteady, tilting higher than natural at the end of his question. Richie eyed him warily. He spoke around the food in his mouth.  
  
“Jealous, Eds? I dunno, maybe he was just gonna ask everyone later?”  
  
“...Richie, uh, do you...what do you think of...would you…” Eddie sputtered. He took a deep breath and let out a dramatic sigh. “Just, you should reschedule.I know you obviously can’t actually go tonight, but don’t blow him off.” Richie just stared, completely perplexed. Finally, he held up three fingers close to Eddie’s face.  
  
“Eddie, how many fingers am I holding up? I’m pretty sure if you can tell me you’re not having a stroke. Otherwise I can’t be sure.”  
  
“Shut up, Rich.”  
  
Now Richie’s mind was racing. How many countless times had they hung out at the quarry? This was literally not a big deal. Was Eddie really jealous? He nearly laughed aloud at the thought. The Losers were quickly becoming the cast of a soap opera. Richie and Eddie both pining after Bill who was lovesick for Stan who is happily committed _._ Then there was whatever Bev and Ben were playing at, all very ‘will they, won’t they.’ _Tune in next week for the thrilling season finale_.   
  
So far Richie had avoided talking to Eddie about Bill at all. Eddie was pretty shitty about keeping secrets in general but from Bill? Forget about it. Besides, even though they were in a really good place now he wouldn’t especially want to listen to Eddie wax poetic about some other guy; He figured he should extend the same courtesy. Still, if he was being honest with himself none of these were really his reason to avoid the topic. Chances were that if Bill really was head over heels for Stan then Eddie would know. If Richie didn’t ask then Eddie couldn’t tell.  
  
Suddenly a loud bang made both of them jump, Eddie pulled his legs off of Richie and folded them underneath himself. They looked up to see Bev, arms full of paper bags and leg still extended from kicking the door open. Eddie jumped up to help her which was lucky because when her eyes settled on the giant dick she nearly dropped the bags. They landed neatly in Eddie’s arms while Bev took it all in. Both boys waited with baited breath until...she burst out laughing. Richie would never admit it but some tension dropped from his shoulders. The three of them here together laughing at Richie’s stupid joke almost made things feel normal, almost like Richie’s world wasn’t falling apart.

* * *

 

This feeling persisted as Richie drove through Derry, wind whipping his hair as he hummed to the radio. It collapsed as he pulled up to Ben’s house and saw Bill waiting outside for him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his face pointed to the ground. Richie felt his heart in his throat as Bill approached the car and swung the door open, hopping into the passenger seat. Richie opened his mouth to speak but when he saw Bill’s tense shoulders and downcast eyes he chose to keep quiet. Instead, he cranked the radio up and began to sing, loud and offkey. He felt relief when he saw Bill slump against the seat and smile softly, eventually quietly adding his voice to Richie’s. His hand lay between them, splayed upwards, inviting. Richie’s hand twitched on the wheel. He kept it grasped tightly as he turned left, away from the quarry.

  
“R-Rich, I thou-”  
  
“I know, Big Bill, I just left my sweatshirt at your place, figured I would just grab it now so I don’t have to go back later.” _Smooth_. Bill only nodded, turning to look out the window. Richie turned the music back up and elbowed Bill in the side, giving him a cocky grin. Bill tried to keep his face pulled into a frown but the corners of his mouth twitched up as he watched Richie from the corner of his eye. When their eyes met the ice melted from his demeanor, his smile beaming as he began belting along with the music.  
  
The house watch pitch black and silent as Richie pulled Bill in, dragging him by the hand after Bill protested that Richie _really_ didn’t need his help to grab a sweatshirt.  
  
“Can you just...be cool, for like, once? Follow me.” Richie led them through the house towards the backyard where the Losers were hidden. _Oh fuck,_ he was supposed to warn them so Bev could light the candles. Panicking, Richie stopped in his tracks, Bill letting out a _hmph_ when he collided with his back. Richie spun and pressed Bill against the kitchen wall, holding him there with a hand dug into his chest. Bill’s eyes widened and he looked down to where they were pressed together, his hand coming up to grip Richie’s wrist.  
  
“Richie wh-what the f-fu-fuck is g-going on?” His voice was breathy, probably from getting slammed into the wall. Wordlessly Richie reached down, removed his shoe, and chucked it against the sliding glass door to their left.  
  
“S-seriously...-” Bill protested, pressing against Richie’s hand but when Richie only pushed harder he relaxed against the wall, his knees buckling. Richie held a finger up to Bill’s lips to shush him while he frantically counted to sixty in his head, a minute should be enough time, right? But then Bill’s lips parted slightly against his finger and he lost track, _32...32..._ It would be so easy to just press down and drag Bill’s lips apart, _37...39...45?_ There was barely a foot between them, Richie could so easily lean down and, _52...53...okay fuck it, 60_. He pulled his eyes up, only now aware of how hard he had been staring at Bill’s mouth. He dropped his arm and made a grand, flourishing gesture directing Bill to the backyard.  
  
Bill’s face was flushed with annoyance and he took a second to glare at Richie, his confusion peaking. Finally, he lifted himself from the wall and walked to the door. Richie followed and heard the loud chorus of “Happy Birthday!” as Bill slid open the door, their friends bursting out from behind a picnic table in the far corner of the yard. Bev held a huge glowing cake and the rest were ready with armfuls of pizza, potato chips, and liquor. They sat together, all seven squeezed between the two benches. The air around them was thick and sweet and their babbling voices echoed against the tall fence surrounding the Denbrough yard. Bev had invited some casual friends from school but made sure to stagger their arrival. Right now was just for them, safe and comfortable together in their private universe.

* * *

 

  
As they rounded on eight o clock the sun was nearly finished setting and Mike stood to light the torches dotted around the yard. They heard the first knocks on the door and all stood, trampling back into the living room. Stan turned the lights on for the first time since this afternoon and Bill chuckled appreciatively at the streamers hanging around the doorways and ceilings until his eyes landed on…it.  
  
“Oh m-my god, T-Tozier.” He immediately rounded on Richie who turned and ran down the hall as fast as he could away from Bill’s attempted tackle.  
  
An hour later the living room was alive with boisterous conversation. A cassette played a soft rock mix Richie had provided and intended to leave as Bill’s gift. All together there were about twenty guests, plenty to fill up the first floor of the small house. Richie was nursing his second drink and watching as some girl draped herself across Mike’s lap, sniggering at Stan’s steaming face. Although their affection had been toned down in the presence of acquaintances Stan and Mike were still inseparable, trading teasing looks and touches they tried to pass off as casual. His eyes wandered to Bill and Eddie who had their heads bowed in a private conversation, Eddie’s eyebrows angled in concern as he spoke animatedly. Ben and Bev were in the middle of their typical game, keeping just slightly apart from each other. He knew that as soon as Bev finished her drink the cuddling would start, followed soon by the kissing.  
  
Richie was rooting in the fridge for some leftover pizza when a giggle from behind him pulled his attention. He turned in time to see Stan drag Mike in and press him in the corner, just out of view of the party. He pressed his entire body against Mike’s as they kissed, both of them high on their secret. It was then that Bill chose to walk in, looking to refill his drink. He absorbed the scene with a long, blank stare and said nothing, dumping some whiskey in his cup before stiffly marching out into the empty yard.  
  
Richie huffed at the pair still snuggled in the corner. He looked longingly into the bright living room where people were starting to dance. Then he looked out at the dark backyard, lit only by the flickering torches. He could ignore this, go and spin Eddie around a few times before snuggling into Ben’s shoulder on the couch. He could keep pretending like this would all go away. Or he could follow Bill outside like he knew he should. Be the shoulder to lean on that his best friend needed. Listen to the man he was in love with talk about how much he loved Richie’s oldest friend. He tipped the rest of his drink down his throat and tossed the cup on the counter. With one last glance towards all the fun he steeled himself and strutted out the door. He found Bill back at the picnic table, his chin planted in his hands.  
  
“Y’know, everyone in there is dancing.”  
  
“So are you asking?” Bill’s reply was flat but his eyes were earnest as he looked up at Richie. Richie extended his hand, counting on one of his voices to flow out; probably some gaudy southern gentleman. But nothing came. He stood silent, his arm reaching out to Bill, a slow, steady song drifting from the still open door.  
  
And then Bill’s hand was in his own and he was moving to his feet. His arms were wrapping around Richie’s waist and pulling him close until they were pressed against each other completely. Richie’s arms still hung dumbly by his sides. He stared behind Bill’s shoulder unable to think of anything except the heavy feeling of Bill’s chest against his own. When Bill’s face buried into the crook of his neck he reflexively wrapped his arms around his shoulders. They began to sway to a steady rhythm barely based on the faint music. Richie heard his thoughts trying to race but he shooed them away focusing all of his energy on memorizing the way Bill’s neck felt under his grip, the weight of Bill’s hands on his back. If everything was about to fall apart he would at least always have this. He let his eyes fall shut as the heady air swirled around them.  
  
Richie’s felt damp spots on his shoulder. He tightened his arms around a shaking Bill, pulling his face deeper into his own neck.  
  
Slowly, their swaying stopped and they stood frozen, Richie gripping Bill’s shoulders tightly. He scanned the yard but luckily found that they were still alone. When Bill slumped slightly against him Richie guided them back to to picnic table where they sat side by side, knees bumping. _Here we go, game face, Rich_. But he stayed silent. If this was going to happen there was no need to speed it along. He kept his eyes on Bill’s profile and waited through a few deep breaths. When Bill spoke his voice was still shaky.  
  
“I-I’m s-s-sorry.”  
  
Richie shook his head vigorously and nudged his shoulder against Bill’s.  
  
“Nope, we’ve been over this.”  
  
Bill nodded. He closed his eyes and inhaled, steadying himself.  
  
“Ben a-ah-and I went to UMaine today. It was...nice, I g-guess. It was f-fu-fine…”  
  
“But?” Richie interrupted.  
  
“But l-looking around it looked l-lu-like...here. It w-wu-was like walking around my own fucking b-b-bu-backyard. I met some of the c-creative writing professors and I swear they’re just c-carbon f-f-fu-fucking copies of the high school teachers.” His voice was shaking again.  
  
Richie’s mind was buzzing. Guilt crushed against his ribs. How long had Bill been worried about this? Richie should have noticed. Richie always noticed. But Richie was too busy thinking with his dick and moping about how Bill didn’t want to make out with him. Meanwhile Bill was having some big life crisis and...shit, Bill was looking at him now, waiting for him to say something.  
  
“Then why? I mean, why are you going?” It came out blunt, almost harsh.  
  
“I c-can’t lea-leave them al-l-one.”  
  
Richie’s brows quirked down in confusion.  
  
“Leave...who?”  
  
“My p-pu-parents.”  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?! This is for them?” Anger bubbled up Richie’s throat. He thought of the empty couch, the ancient pictures on the walls. “You’re okay with being stuck here because of them? Fuck, they won’t even notice you’re sti-” He slapped his hand over his mouth. It didn’t matter. It was too late. Bill’s eyes narrowed and refilled with tears. He stood and Richie jumped up, his hands lifted defensively.  
  
“Wait, Bill, I’m s-”  
  
Bill shoved his shoulder hard against Richie’s as he disappeared back into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, i did not anticipate this much crying when i started this.


	3. won't you ever know?

Richie Tozier was used to hearing that he was just “too much.” Too loud, too crass, too insensitive. The problem was that people always waited until they decided he was being “too much” to tell him so. By the time they said anything about it they were already pissed. Even Stan was often too subtle, expecting Richie to pick up on cues to stop that were usually lost on him. Luckily, in fourth grade Richie met Bill Denbrough who wasn’t afraid to tell him to shut the fuck up or, even better, throw the jabs right back at him. Bill was always honest, Richie never had to be insecure around him because he knew if he was being a shit, Bill would just tell him. Technically, Richie guessed, that’s exactly what Bill had been doing for the last week. He got the message loud and fuckin’ clear.  
  
**Sunday, the morning after.  
**  
Richie woke on the floor of the Denbrough living room under a pile of limbs. Bev was sprawled on his right side, Eddie on his left. When he stretched his arm under the blanket he shifted two others with it, their little nest was so intertwined he felt like a fly in a web. Getting his bearings, he tried to remember how he ended up on the living room floor instead of his unofficially reserved spot on Bill’s bed, a claim challenged only sometimes by Eddie. His thoughts flashed through the night and settled on the feeling of Bill’s arms around his waist, his head heavy on Richie’s shoulder as they danced.

Then his mind sped towards the memory of Bill’s face falling into hurt shock, his shoulder jamming roughly against Richie’s. Richie felt it like a punch in the gut. The rest of the night fell in like puzzle pieces. Bill had growled out a good night to the partygoers, disappearing into his bedroom. When Richie  tried to follow Bev grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom. Her eyes were wide with pity.  
  
“Rich, what happened? Did you te-”  
  
“What? No, no, not that I just fucked up, I said something fucking stupid and he’s pissed.” Richie was shaking slightly, his words were rushed and breathy.  
  
“Wait here.” Bev had gone to Bill herself and returned a half hour later. She found most of the partygoers gone and Richie wallowing on the couch nursing a drink. She fell into his side and sighed.  
  
“Don’t go up there tonight.”  
  
Richie groaned.

Well, it wasn’t “tonight” anymore, it was the following morning and Richie scrambled out of the tangle of blankets, ignoring Bev’s annoyed whine. He raced up the stairs and knocked on Bill’s door.  
  
“Bill? Hey, open up.”  
Nothing. He pounded his fist harder.  
  
“Jesus, Bill, come on. I’m fuckin’ sorry, man. I’m an asshole. A real piece of shit.” Richie’s hand gripped his hair tightly as he sank down, his back against the door. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, then a presence was looming over him. He turned to see Stan studying him, eyes darting between the closed bedroom door and Richie’s slumped form. He took a step closer to the door and Richie’s heart sank, picturing how easily Bill would let Stan in, let Stan hold him while he cried about what an asshole Richie was...is.  But Stan stopped squarely in front of Richie and extended a hand, pulling him to his feet.  
  
“Let’s go.”

 **Monday, Day Two**.  
  
Richie lost count after the eleventh phone call. When he finally heard the receiver being lifted he jumped a little, not actually expecting to hear a human voice. But it was just Sharon Denbrough. Richie’s eyes flickered to the clock on his bedside table. _Fuck_ , 5:34, Bill’s parents were both be home from work, effectively ending his tirade. When he asked for Bill he heard Sharon give a weak attempt to yell up the stairs. He rolled his eyes when she was back on the phone only three seconds later.  
“He must be busy, sorry, Richie.”

 **Tuesday, Day Three.  
**  
Richie had perfected the art of rock tossing. His first try had been too hard, with the potential to shatter Bill’s window. The second had been too soft, not nearly enough to get anyone’s attention. But now by his eleventh try they were landing with a gentle yet satisfying crack. After the fifteenth he was more focused on honing his skill than watching for Bill to appear. It wasn’t until he watched the twentieth rock sail through the air that he noticed that Bill had pulled his blinds down and twisted them shut.

 **Wednesday, Day Four.  
**  
The tips of Richie’s hair dangled inches from the floor as he hung upside down off of Stan’s bed. His fingers tapped a hectic beat on his stomach. He breathed a large sigh, the third in ten minutes. Stan kicked him lightly from where he was lounging at the other end of the bed, leaned back into Mike’s chest.  
  
“Quit pouting. If you wanna talk then talk. We all know you know how.”  
  
Richie flipped himself up into a sitting position and shot a weak glare in Stan’s direction.  
  
“Excuse me, Stanley, I’m trying to wallow in peace.”  
  
“In my bed, inexplicably.” Stan shot back, but he closed his eyes at the feeling of Mike’s hand running through his curls. It was Mike who spoke next, interrupting the banter.  
  
“He can’t stay mad at you forever, Rich. Give him time. But if I were you I would have the world’s greatest apology ready for when he does decide to talk to you again.”

Richie huffed.  
  
“It’s not like I’m not fuckin’ right but whatever. I’ll grovel.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘right’?” asked Mike.  
  
“About his shitty parents!” Mike flinched a little.  
  
“Richie, what do you really mean? Why are you so mad at them?” Mike’s voice was gentler now, prodding.  
  
“Why?!” Richie’s words rushed like river rapids. “When’s the last time you saw them give him the time of fucking day? Put him in a room with them he just...flattens because no matter what they won’t listen to him for five fucking minutes. They’ve got this hilarious, smart, creative kid and they treat him like their annoying neighbor or something. And it’s bad enough for that to happen here in this shithole but it makes me fucking sick to think that he’ll get stuck here being squashed by th- what? What’s that face for?” As Richie ranted Mike’s face had contorted, he tried and miserably failed to wipe the growing smile from him lips. He shook his head.  
  
“Nevermind. But I think you should tell him that. He needs to hear it.” Mike punctuated his sentence with a kiss to the side of Stan’s temple.

 **Thursday, Day Five.  
**  
“Eddie, baby, you gotta help me.”  
  
“Don’t call me that, Richie.” Eddie’s mouth was a thin line as he was interrupted from his work on his old Buick. He always swore it was _this close_ to running, but saving up for the necessary parts was slow going. He didn’t bother turning, knowing that Richie would make himself comfortable. The setting sun streamed into the garage as Richie plopped onto the old couch pressed against the wall. It highlighted the sparse decorations Eddie had brought in to make this place his own, a few band posters and some photos of the Losers.  
  
“Did you want something?” Eddie called, his face still buried under the hood of the car.  
  
“I need to get back into Big Bill’s good graces. I figured you were my best bet.”  
  
Eddie snorted.  
  
“What do you want me to do, put in a good word? You hurt him, Richie, deal with the consequences. Not your strong suit, I know.”  
  
“Don’t start, Petty Kaspbrak.” Richie’s tone was sharp. But it fell soft when he spoke again. “I just wanna fix it.” He focused more closely on the photos on the walls and smiled to himself at the collection of goofy grins shining back at him. One in particular caught his eye; an outtake of Bill, Richie, and Eddie on the last day of their sophomore year. Richie had two fingers held up behind Eddie’s head and the smaller boy was mid-turn to grab his wrist. Bill looked on laughing, his face lit up by a vibrant grin. _See, this is the kind of shit that belongs in those frames._ He stood to get a closer look and jumped when Eddie popped up next to him.  
  
“I get it, you know. I get why you’re mad. You’re right, he deserves better. But he doesn’t get that. Somewhere the lines got crossed and he feels responsible for them because they lost a kid. If you really want my advice, Rich, make sure he knows that it’s because you care about him, not because you hate them.”  
  
“But I _do_ h-”  
  
“Even if you do, asshole.”

Richie continued to stare at the tapestry of memories in front of him. Eddie’s words were an echo, _“You’re right, he deserves better. But he doesn’t get that.”_ Richie’s chest ached at the idea that Bill really didn’t get it, didn’t see the magnetism that had drawn all six of them to him, the thoughtful charisma that meant they would follow him to the ends of the earth. It was all here in these photos if Richie could just _show_ him.  
Oh. There’s an idea.  
  
“Eds, I’m gonna need your help.”

 **Saturday, Day Seven  
**  
The incessant tapping of his own foot on the hardwood floor was almost enough to drive Richie himself crazy. He glanced down at his watch, 6:57. Six minutes since he had last checked. One hundred and six minutes since he had watched the Denbrough’s car pull out of the driveway on their way to a friend’s wedding two states over. Fifty six minutes since he had slid in through the back door. Thirty six minutes since Richie had finished setting his trap. Three minutes until Bill’s shift at the nearby bookstore ended.  
  
Headlights of passing cars flashed shadows on the walls of the dark living room. Richie held his breath every time one passed, waiting for it to pass the driveway before huffing his exhale. A wrinkled sheet of paper wilted in his grip. He unfolded it, smoothed it to study his messy scrawl, and folded it back along the well-worn lines. He had never been so aware of his long, lanky limbs until he desperately tried to find a casual way to sit on the couch.

He had battled with himself about the lights, all of them on felt like an interrogation room, making Richie sweat. Off was too weird, but he almost doubled over laughing imagining Bill’s reaction to the shock of finding him there in the dark. He even brainstormed a few of the creepiest one liners he could whisper before re-adjusting himself to the gravity of the situation. He settled on just one lamp that cast a warm, comforting glow on the otherwise sparse room. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Richie sat for twenty minutes that felt like two hours before the headlights of Bill’s car washed through window. Shaky hands smoothed the creases of his crinkled jeans while the car door slammed shut. His eyes darted towards the back door and he felt the urge to vault off the couch towards it but then the doorknob was turning, the door was being pushed open and-  
  
“R-Richie?!” Bill’s voice cracked as he jumped back. “W-what the f-f-fuck are you doing here?!” His widened eyes began to narrow as his mouth pulled into a scowl. Richie leapt up, holding his hands up defensively. Emotion radiated from Bill like a wave crashing into Richie’s chest, confusion, anger, hurt.  
  
“Hey, I get you’re fuckin’ pissed. Just please hear me out, Big Bill.” His hands fell and he let his shoulders drop with them, making himself as small as possible. “Please.”  
  
“Five minutes, Tozier.”  
  
“Okay, fair, do you wanna -” He gestured vaguely to the couch. Bill didn’t budge. “Yeah, cool, not yet then.” One more deep breath. His hands mechanically unfolded the paper and he stared down at it, the words blending into messy scribbles.  
  
“Okay, first, I’m really sorry about what I said. It was totally out of line. You were trying to talk to me about something important and I fucked it up. I’m really really really really _really_ sorry.” He left a long pause before speaking again more cautiously. “But, I still want to talk about this. Before, what I said, it wasn’t the right way to say it. But it still has to be said.” For the first time since he started talking he chanced a look at Bill. The expression he found was wary, but not angry. He continued, reading directly from his notes now so he didn’t miss a beat.

“I know you think you have to stay here, but you deserve better than Derry. We, _I_ , don’t want you to get stuck here. You should be around people who see everything you are, not just what you used to be. I get that you don’t see it, but you’re the real deal, Denbrough. Eddie says you won’t believe it if I just say it, so I thought maybe I should show you.”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
Richie turned his head to stare pointedly at the picture frame nearest the door. Bill followed his gaze until it landed on the photo of Bill, Eddie, and Richie from the garage taped messily over the frame. His eyes widened as took in the room, finally noticing that every single picture frame was covered with something new. The entire club minus Eddie, the photographer, flipping off the camera in their prom outfits. Bill proudly holding up a ribbon from the state writing competition he had won last year. Beverly laughing as she watched Bill struggle to hold Richie on his back. Bill and Stan in matching baseball uniforms, arms slung around each other, wearing identical exhausted grins and holding a heavy trophy. He walked slowly around the room, taking his time to take them in.

When he finally ended up in front of Richie his eyes were glistening lightly.  
  
“How?”  
  
“Eds, mostly. I had a few lying around but he has a ton. This is what they’re missing out on.” Bill flinched, but Richie continued.

“But it’s their loss they haven’t kept up with you. I’m serious, Bill. As a heart attack. Even if I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming, you’re getting the fuck out of here, same as the rest of us.” He groped behind him at the pile of paper he had left on the small table next to the couch. Holding his breath tightly, he pushed them into Bill’s grasp.  
College applications, at least fifty of them from states all around the country.  
  
“I found out that the school is actually open during the summer, who’da guessed? I mean, the guidance office is a different story but that was an easy picked lock.”  
  
Bill’s frozen face finally broke into an exasperated smile and he dropped his forehead to Richie’s shoulder, laughing lightly.  
  
“Richie, it d-doesn’t m-matter though. The d-d-dealines were all m-months ago.”  
  
“So you’re applying for the spring semester, who cares?”  
  
Bill lifts his head and looks into Richie’s eyes, their faces inches apart. Bill’s eyes are shining again, but there are no tears. _Oh fuck_ , Richie thinks as his stomach swoops. _Don’t look at me like that. I wanna kiss you so bad you big stupid idiot and that look is about to make m-_  
  
“Th-thank you, Richie.” It’s simple, he doesn’t elaborate, but the gratitude in his gaze and the relaxed way his body leans towards Richie are enough.

 

* * *

  
  
An hour later found them lazily draped across Bill’s bedroom, Richie on the bed and Bill at his desk. They had both filled out at least ten applications, but a combination of fatigue and the joint burning between Bill’s lips was slowing them down. Richie reached forward to grab it when Bill leaned back to offer, the pressure of their fingers brushing on the way tingling on his skin. Pulling a long drag he rolled onto his back, exhaling to the ceiling.  
  
“So Billy, what’s catchin’ your eye?”  
  
Bill spun in his chair, his eyes dragging up Richie’s body as he went. They lingered on his fingers holding the joint before he answered.  
  
“Mm, colleges, you m-mean?”  
  
“Duh.”

“I d-dunno, N-New York is kind of ex-exciting.”  
  
“The Big Apple!” Richie’s voice strained to take on the hue of a booming 50’s radio announcer. “City that never sleeps! Capital of the world! Gotham!”  
  
“Jesus, R-Rich, shut the f-f-fuck up” Bill managed between peals of laughter. “Gimme that back.”  
  
“What, this?” Richie smirked, waving the joint still held between his fingers.  
  
“C-c’mon, asshole.”  
  
Instead, Richie leapt up so he was standing on the bed.  
  
“Come and get it.”  
  
Bill’s eyes sharpened but his smile widened. In one quick movement he jumped up from the chair and shot his arm out to snatch Richie’s ankle, missing by a few inches as Richie hurdled off the bed, landing halfway across the room and taking off. His hand scrambled against the doorknob but he was yanked back by the collar of his shirt, falling back against Bill. He wormed his way beneath Bill’s arm and was almost at the other end the of room when a strong hand gripped his upper arm and shoved, landing him back on the bed. Richie was so focused on not dropping the joint that it took his swirling thoughts a long moment to realize he was pinned on his back by Bill’s thighs on either side of his waist. He was well under the weed’s spell, his nerves alight and warmth spreading through his gut.

Every tiny movement was torturously magnified. It took everything in him to not wrap his hands around Bill’s thighs, his hips, his ass. He felt Bill’s tight grip sliding down his arm and turned to watch the muscles move under Bill’s t-shirt. Bill shifted a little and Richie’s jaw clamped as he begged his own hips to stay put. He was so focused on the weight of Bill’s knee in his side that he didn’t notice when Bill finally found his prize, snatching the joint away from him. It was burned down low, barely there anymore. Bill victoriously held it to his lips with a smug smile.  
  
“No fair,” Richie whined. “I wanted the last hit.”  
  
“It’s still g-got one m-more in it,” Bill replied. “You w-want it?”  
  
Richie’s nod was replaced by a look of horror as Bill brought it back up to his lips. He grasped Bill’s wrist and pulled himself up so they were sitting face to face.  
  
“Don’t you dare.”  
  
But Bill was already pulling, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Their closeness suddenly caught up to Richie’s dizzy mind and his breath hitched when he felt the heat radiating from Bill’s chest so close to his own. His eyes slid to fixate on the way Bill’s lips wrapped around the last of the joint, inhaling deeply. Fuck it. He was moving before the plan even really formed. His hand shot up to place a thumb against Bill’s bottom lip, tugging it open. He lifted his face to stare into Bill’s hazy eyes and leaned even closer, their lips nearly brushing.  
  
“Come on, I’m asking so nicely.”  
  
Smoke flooded Richie’s mouth as the shiver that ran up Bill’s spine pushed him to exhale quickly, turning his head to cough into his elbow. Richie cackled, falling back into the pillows.  
  
“W-what the fuck, Richie?”

“Don’t you know I always get what I want, Denbrough?”

The punch to his arm was half-hearted as Bill collapsed beside him, giggling. The sound made Richie’s face split into a grin, his heart pounding. He turned to watch the way Bill’s eyes squeezed shut as he laughed and let his own close, committing a snapshot of _right now_ to his memory. They were quickly running out of _right now_ s and Richie was going to hold on to every one of them.

He had almost drifted to sleep when Bill’s voice spoke beside him, hesitant and slow.  
  
“R-Rich?”

“Mhmm?”

A heavy silence stretched between them. Richie almost worried he had been hearing things.  
  
“...j-just, th-thanks again.”  
  
Richie let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.  
  
“‘Course, Billy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @tozierbraks on tumblr


	4. spinning on that dizzy edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very vaguely nsfw stuff towards the end!

Richie’s palm slapped over his twitching cheek and he groaned softly when he found an application to the University of Maryland stuck there with drool. He flung it off the bed and dropped his arm backwards with a dramatic sigh, letting it fall with a satisfying smack on Bill’s face.  
  
“Why’d you always g-gotta ruin everything?” Bill’s groggy voice mumbled into his pillow.  
  
Richie braced himself for the returning hit, at least a shove, but Bill just buried his face into the space between Richie’s shoulder blades and rested there, breathing deeply. Richie melted, any thoughts of getting up completely abandoned. Instead he closed his eyes and focused on the steady weight of Bill pressed against him. He let himself imagine that the gesture meant as much to Bill as it did to him. That he could turn over right now and wrap his arms around him. That they would share a few lazy kisses that would turn into a slow, satisfying fuck before they would go downstairs and Richie would snake his arms around Bill’s waist while he made coffee that they would share across from each other at the kitchen table. That they could stay like that every morning, uninterrupted. That in four weeks they wouldn’t be sprawling across the country, Richie headed to California while Bill stayed burrowed on the east coast.  
  
Suddenly reality was better than the reverie and Richie pulled himself back, chasing Bill as he pulled away by flopping over on his other side so they were face to face. They had woken up side by side like this probably hundreds of times over the years, at least dozens since Richie realized why his jokes felt flat unless Bill was laughing. Still, he was sure he would never get used to the sleepy smile Bill got when Richie greeted him with a goofy good morning. Today he tried a gruff Han Solo impression. It came out more like a couple of grunts but got him exactly what he was hoping for.

“You w-wish you were half as s-smooth, Tozier.” Bill snorted.  
  
“Whatever, you’re still swooning, princess.”  
  
Bill gave a responding groan with an exaggerated eye roll. He lifted himself, sitting up and reaching up to stretch. When his shirt rode up a little Richie pinched the skin on his hip hard before rolling swiftly off the bed and racing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locked.  


* * *

Richie found Bill downstairs, carefully peeling the photos off the frames. He jumped in to help, handing the stack to Bill when he was finished.

“C-can I keep these?”  
  
“Yep, they’re all doubles. D’you think Eds would have trusted me with his one and onlies?”  
  
Bill nodded and tucked the pictures into the pocket of his flannel. He looked back to the old picture frames, landing on a shot of Georgie laughing on a swing set.  
  
“Hey, R-Rich,” he murmured. “Next w-week is the t-twenty-th-th-th-”  
  
“The twenty-third, I didn’t forget. I’ll pick you up at four?”  
  
Bill nodded, his eyes now trained on the ground. On July 23rd Georgie Denbrough should have turned 11 years old, getting ready to go into sixth grade, freaking out about middle school and begging his big brother for advice. Instead, Richie and Bill would visit him in the memorial cemetery for the sixth year in a row.  
Richie knew better than to try and make this easier. He had never told Bill that ‘everything will be okay’ because it never would and Bill knew it as well as Richie did. He could only try to soften the blow by letting Bill know it was okay that this shit wasn’t okay. Right now, though, as he watched Bill sinking he became desperate to lift him up.

He reached into Bill’s pocket to snag the photos and thumbed through them for a distraction. He lingered on the one of himself clinging to Bill’s back but flipped it to the back of the pile. Next up was Stan and Bill together with their trophy. _Worth a shot._  
  
“This trophy’s pretty fuckin’ big, you guys compensating for something?”  
  
“N-nah, they just make it p-proportional.” Bill took the stack back from Richie and slid the picture in the back to the front. He smiled down at Richie’s lanky limbs wrapped around his own struggling frame.  
  
“Y-you’re really a dork, y-you know that?” But there was none of the bite in his tone that Richie expected, only a gentle fondness drifting through his words.  
Richie’s cheeks flushed lightly as he stammered back.  
  
“Takes one to know one, Denbrough.”  
  
Bill raised his eyes to look into Richie’s.  
  
“R-Richie,” his gaze flicked up behind Richie’s shoulder to the clock on the wall. “Sh-shit, we’re s-supposed to meet everyone in t-ten minutes!” He bolted back up the stairs, leaving Richie sputtering.

* * *

 

When they scrambled into the crowded corner booth next to Bev the entire group applauded.  
  
“The dynamic dumbasses, reunited.” Eddie snarked, shooting Bill a sly smile. Bill picked up an unopened straw, ripped the top off and blew the wrapper at him, narrowly missing his cheek.  
  
“Duh, we all knew he couldn’t stay away from all this much longer.” Richie taunted, gesturing down his torso.  
  
Bev scoffed but sent Richie a sincere smile, kicking him playfully under the table before she asked,  
  
“I do wanna know, though, how’d you get yourself out of the shit pit, Tozier?”  
  
Richie regaled them with a dramatic retelling of the previous night, complete with a few over-exaggerated details about his own heroism which Bill vehemently denied. When he finished Bev actually looked impressed and Mike had that same secretive fucking smile from the first time Richie had ranted to him about Bill’s parents.   
Stan spoke up next,  
  
“So, Bill, what did you say? Are you applying?”  
  
“Y-yeah, we filled out a bunch of the ap-applications last n-night. I’m th-thinking maybe N-New York or Philadelphia.”  
  
Stan sat up a little straighter, looking startled.  
  
“New York? Guess Eddie and I should start looking for a three bedroom instead, huh?”  
  
“Oh shit,” Richie blurted, covering his mouth when everyone turned to stare in confusion. “Sorry, food’s too hot.” The lie came easily and the attention went back to Bill, now naming some of the school options on his mind.  
  
But Richie wasn’t listening. Of fucking course Bill had already picked New York. Stan had responded to his acceptance to New York State months ago, he was one of the first to decide, with Richie landing on UCLA a few weeks later. Conveniently, a UCLA application had been on the top of the pile Richie had handed Bill last night. But Richie couldn’t remember Bill actually filling it out, he could only picture Bill’s messy scrawl over the NYU and NYSU applications. He watched Bill listening to Stan talk about the apartment hunt with rapt attention and felt his excitement collapsing in his chest.  
  
He would be jetting three thousand miles away, leaving Stan and Bill to cozy up in the city. His eyes swept over Mike who, so far, was staying in Derry, eight long hours from New York. Who knows how long he and Stan would last. And when they crumbled Bill would be there, his infectious energy pulling Stan back into his orbit. Richie’s mind was flooded with sugary sweet images of them strolling down a quiet street lined with brownstones, Stan pointing out his favorite and Bill promising it to him someday.

A sharp crack grounded him and he lifted his glass just in time to join in the toast Bev had initiated. Without warning he shoved on Bill’s side, pushing him out of the booth so that he could slide out behind him.  
  
“Cigarette,” he grumbled in explanation. He heard the footsteps behind him but didn’t turn until he made it outside. While he was patting his empty pockets he felt Bev’s small hand lace into his own. He gave up his pretend search and leaned against the wall, not meeting her eyes.

“So, everything went exactly according to plan. Why am I out here watching you mope?”  
  
Words began bubbling in Richie’s throat but dissipated before he could let them flow out. He still couldn’t spit out the Stan part, couldn’t make it real. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to hit the wall.  
  
“Maybe I should have only grabbed California applications. Los Angeles ones, really.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Maybe if I had been that fucking selfish I wouldn’t feel like dog shit right now.”

“Nah, you still would. Because you’d still probably be going by yourself. And instead of sending him off to actually be something you’d be leaving him here in this shithole.”

Richie’s retort died on his lips as Ben pushed open the door and held it for the other five to parade through. Bill leaned himself against the building on Richie’s other side and the rest moved so the group formed a circle. While Ben explained the intricacies of his newest clubhouse design to a skeptical Eddie (“We’re eighteen years old, Ben, how is any treehouse going to hold all of us up? More importantly, _why_?”)

Bill pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and dumped the last one left into his palm, holding it out to Richie. Richie accepted with a sheepish nod of thanks and brought it to his lips while Bill lifted his lighter and flicked it on, his fingers brushing Richie’s cheek as he sheltered it from the wind. They passed it back and forth as the plan for the rest of the day was sorted out. Richie dropped his hand between them, nudging Bill’s to try and pass it over, but Bill didn’t respond. He looked up to grab his attention but found Bill’s eyes trained squarely on where Stan and Mike’s own hands were clasped tightly together, Mike’s thumb tracing slow patterns.  
  
_Yep, that’s about right_.  
  
He gave up on trying to hand over the cigarette, letting his hand hang limp. When he felt Bill’s hand graze his he twisted the butt in his hand, offering it up. But Bill didn’t take it. Instead, he hooked his pinky around Richie’s. Richie’s eyes snapped down to where they were linked, still waiting for Bill to grab for the cigarette. He didn’t.   
Richie was pretty sure there would be a mark where he had let the shrinking butt burn close to his palm until the group broke apart, planning to take separate cars to the Hanlon farm to hide out the worst of the summer heat in the shade of the barn.

* * *

Time always moved kind of funny on July 23rd. It should take about seven minutes to drive the couple of miles between Richie’s house and Bill’s, but today the road stretched out long in front of Richie. His shoulders felt heavier with every passing minute until he was sure he had been driving a half hour. He glanced at the clock. Seven minutes.

Bill was waiting outside, sitting hunched on his front porch. Watching him slowly approach the truck struck Richie with the memory of a similarly dampened Bill waiting outside Ben’s house before his birthday party. It made his brain itch, he was forgetting something that was just barely evading him. But then Bill was opening the door and swinging himself into the passenger seat with a small smile, stealing Richie’s attention.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
“Y-yeah.”

While the drive to Bill’s felt too slow, the ride to the cemetery was too fast. The solid, cold monuments loomed as Richie pulled in and followed the narrow roads to the small hill where George Denbrough was buried. They had driven in silence, it felt foreign between them but Richie knew to expect it. The sound of Richie shifting the truck into park jolted Bill back to Earth, but he didn’t move to leave the car. Richie waited, channeling every ounce of patience he had for the year into this moment. Finally, Bill sighed out a deep breath and cracked the door, letting it fall shut behind him. Richie scrambled out, walking around the back to grab a blanket and plastic grocery bag from the truck bed. When he made it around the other side Bill’s face broke into the first true smile Richie had seen on him all day.  
  
“B-better not be ch-chocolate frosting, Tozier.”

“You have no fucking taste, William. But no, it’s bland vanilla on vanilla. Couldn’t resist the rainbow sprinkles, though.”  
  
Bill grabbed the blanket from Richie’s arms and unfolded it under the spreading branches of the thick oak tree that grew by Georgie’s headstone. He shuffled to stand in front of the grave. It used to reach almost up to his chest, Richie remembered.

He almost laughed out loud remembering the first time he and Bill had done this. Still two years away from being able to drive they had walked the three miles it took to get here. On top of that, they had gone for an enormous cake, grossly overestimating how much they could eat. Richie let himself smile at the thought of the two awkward, gangly boys passing the cake back and forth when their arms were tired on a walk that felt like forever back then. They had eaten until they were nearly sick and the mess Richie had made all over his face made Bill roll in the grass, laughing. The dirty stains on his sleeves were what inspired the blanket the next year.  
  
Now, the stone only reached the tops of Bill’s thighs. Richie folded himself onto the blanket, sitting with his legs crossed and his back against the tree. He let the silence persist as long as he could before digging into the bag, tossing the package of Bill and Georgie’s favorite snack, cheddar popcorn, aside and pulling out the small square of cake and a box of candles. He squeezed eleven of them onto the cake and pulled out his lighter. He glanced back at Bill still standing and muttering to himself, or, to Georgie really. The setting sun was casting his shadow long behind him, across Richie’s lap. Richie could feel the weight of it as he stared, wishing he could pull the real thing against his chest.  
When Bill moved to sit across from him Richie lit the candles, their close proximity making an intimidating ball of fire. They met each other’s eyes and began counting down,  
  
“3...2...1…”  
  
Even with their combined strength the candles were resilient, Richie resorting to exaggerated blowing sounds until they were extinguished.  
  
“Gross, you sp-spit all over the c-cake.” Bill whined with mock exasperation.  
  
“Hot.” Richie shot back, already digging in the bag for plastic forks.  
  
Bill spun around to lean beside Richie so that they could easily share the treat between them. They made quick work of it, battling with their forks for the corner pieces. Richie began scraping the excess frosting out of the plastic box and sucking it off his finger.  
  
“G-God you’re gross.”  
  
Instead of replying Richie scooped up more frosting and made a show of licking slowly up his finger, his eyes boring into Bill’s as he made an obscene moaning sound.  
  
“Really?! H-Here?!” Bill scolded, but the angry tone didn’t reach his eyes and he quickly gave in to a chuckle. He leaned his head back against the tree and let his eyes close.  
  
“So whad’ja update him on this year? What were the highlights?”  
  
“Well, g-graduating, obviously. I t-told him about the r-road trip we all took last fall. And about the c-colleges everyone is going to. I ev-even told him about how much of an asshole you w-were.” Richie elbowed him and Bill laughed. “B-but I also told him about w-what you did. How it sc-scares the shit out of me but I’m still g-glad you did it.” He paused and tilted his head toward Richie, stopping just short of resting it on his shoulder. “And I t-t-told h-him ab-about St-Stan and M-Mike. I h-hate that he n-never got to know Mike, h-he w-would have l-loved him. B-but he d-did l-love Stan so he w-would want to know.”  
  
Richie extended out his legs beside Bill’s, their knees knocking gently. He breathed in the heavy summer air, stretched his arms high above his head, and let them fall onto his lap. He squinted into the sunset and lowered his eyes, settling them on his hands, inches away from Bill’s where they rested on his own thighs. He hadn’t said a word about Bill’s linking their fingers in the parking lot, he really had had no idea how to approach it. Or if he wanted to.  
  
Of course, Beverly had noticed and accosted him with a shriek the instant they were alone later that night as he drove her home. He replayed the conversation to himself.  
  
“Sooo?! Were you holding out on me about last night? Did you get into more than just Bill’s good graces?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“...so then what was that about?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Marsh.” Richie had tried to keep his head level but he could feel his face breaking into a grin even as he shook his head. “No idea, maybe his hand was just cold.”  
  
“Shut up, Richie. Okay, excuses over, now you have to do something about it.”  
  
Richie’s face fell.  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“Why the fuck not?”  
  
Richie had finally broken as they pulled into her driveway. He told Bev about all his suspicions, all the jealous, lingering looks, all the frustrated stammering.  
  
“Oh, Richie. You’re an idiot.” She rushed to continue when she saw Richie’s betrayed expression. “I mean, I love you but you’re an idiot. You’re always so up in your head about this kind of thing, your brain goes a million miles an hour about shit that was never even there. Has Bill ever said literally anything about still liking Stan?”  
  
“Eh, not out loud.”  
  
“Then it’s just another excuse. He literally held your hand today. Go for it.” She pecked a kiss to his cheek and jumped out of the truck, leaving him a little dumbfounded. He wanted her to be right so fucking badly, but she hadn’t seen that look on Bill’s face at the quarry that night when Mike carried Stan into the forest.  
  
“ _...the quarry, oh fuck,_ ” he thought, yanked from his recollection. His head smacked against the tree behind him as he sat up straight. _That’s_ what he had been forgetting.   
He had promised Eddie he would follow up on Bill’s invitation from the morning of the party. Somewhere that idea had been lost, probably somewhere in the middle of the week Bill hated his guts. At the risk of opening that wound, he spoke up.  
  
“Still wanna go to the quarry?”  
  
“W-What?”  
  
“A couple weeks ago you wanted to go to the quarry, y’know, before I dropped the bomb. Eds cornered me to make sure I rescheduled.” A quick smile flashed over Bill’s face.  
  
“Of c-c-course he d-did.”

Richie didn’t bother trying to unpack what that meant, desperate for one fucking normal day. Bill sat up and turned his head to face Richie. His eyes slowly roved over his features, causing Richie to duck his head and laugh a little nervously.  
  
“So? Still wanna go?”  
  
Bill smirked, ducking his own head to chase Richie’s eyes.  
  
“F-fuck yeah I d-do.” his voice was low. The timbre sank into Richie’s bones and he let himself squirm for a second before pulling himself together and flicking Bill’s forehead.  
  
“Okay loser, chill out. Say goodbye and get in the truck.”

* * *

Richie spun the truck into the clearing by their makeshift fire pit. He twisted the volume down on the music that blared through the speakers, but when he moved to turn the car off Bill nudged his wrist.

“C-can we l-lu-leave the music on for a little while?”  
  
“Sure thing.” Richie rolled down his window and reached behind him to slide the rear one open, turning the music back up lightly before jumping out of the car. He stretched with a loud groan and leaned against the hood, watching Bill for his next move. Only, Bill didn’t really seem to know what his own next move was. He climbed out of the truck, but hung on to the door for a moment before slamming it shut. His eyes glanced towards the logs around the pit but he clearly didn’t find what he was looking for. He looked up, taking in the inky night sky, then shifted his stare to the bed of the truck where the blanket had been refolded. He started towards it, grabbing the blanket and laying it down on the hard plastic. He lifted himself in with a huff, laying down with his arms crossed behind his head.  
  
Richie remained where he was, feeling glued to the hood. His head was already swimming with the idea of climbing in there next to Bill, thinking about how closely they would be pressed together, stargazing like some sappy movie. Soon the idea became as intoxicating as it was terrifying and he slowly sauntered to the back and clambered in, noticing that Bill had left half of the bed open, clearly waiting for him. He settled next to him, awkwardly stretching his arm out above Bill’s head when he found no other place to put it. The other he tucked under his own head.  
  
Time really did move funny on July 23rd. Richie couldn’t really be sure if they had been there five minutes or twenty. He was busy taking another mental snapshot, memorizing everything from the sound of the crickets nearby, to the soft breeze that was blowing his curls, and, most of all, Bill’s profile. He tried his best to be inconspicuous about his stare but he was also starting to not really giving a fuck anymore if he got caught with stars in his eyes.

He turned back to look at the sky again, admiring the field of stars you could really only find in a small town. His mind started to wander.  
  
“Do you ever think about whether or not you would fuck an alien?”  
  
Instead of responding Bill just began shaking with laughter, turning on his side to bury his face in his arm. Richie turned to face him, grinning.  
  
“You’re laughing but I was serious. Obviously there could be like, millions of kinds but is there a kind that you wo-” Bill clamped a hand over Richie’s mouth, still laughing.  
  
“Beep f-fucking beep, Richie.” He lowered his hand slowly, letting his fingers drag down Richie’s lips. His eyes followed the movement.

“F-fuck it.” Bill whispered.  
  
He rushed forward and their noses collided as he pressed his lips hard against Richie’s. Richie’s entire body reacted immediately, returning the kiss while leaning forward, pushing Bill backwards until Richie was flush on top of him. When Bill’s hand gripped the back of his neck he groaned, his lips parting. Bill took the invitation, slipping his tongue across Richie’s lower lip.  
  
Richie’s brain caught up to him sometime between his left leg swinging itself over Bill’s hip and Bill’s hand moving down to grab at his waist. _Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck_. He wrenched himself away, staring down with his mouth still hanging open and his eyes wide with shock. Looking at Bill’s reddened lips he dove back in for another quick, messy kiss before rolling himself onto his back and letting out a loud whoop. Bill chased him, lifting himself on his elbow to lean over him and press a series of quick kisses down his jaw. When Richie turned his head to find his lips Bill pulled away instead, leaving Richie to whine. They both panted softly as they caught their breath.  
  
“So, uh, what the fuck, Denbrough?” Richie laughed.  
  
“I th-thought I made myself p-pu-pretty clear.” Bill teased, still holding himself above Richie. The way his eyes were searching Richie’s made his heart pound.  
  
“B-but I guess I’ll d-do this right. I’m n-not an idiot, I know h-how I get at home, sometimes it feels like I’m just as dead to them as G-Gu-Georgie. But you make me feel so fucking alive, Richie. No matter how hard this p-place tries to suffocate me it never works when I’m with you.” His confidence wavered a little before he continued. “A-and I get it if w-we’re just f-friends but I had to t-”  
  
Richie cut him off with another bruising kiss, sitting up and yanking hard at his shirt to pull Bill down. He pulled back just enough that their lips were still brushing before speaking low.  
  
“I’m fucking crazy about you, Big Bill.”  
  
A quiet growl rumbled in Bill’s throat as he pushed Richie back down flat and mouthed at his neck, biting lightly before trailing kisses up towards his jaw. Richie let his eyes slide shut and his fingers curl into Bill’s hair. When Bill reached his lips he was expecting another rough kiss, but was met instead with one that was soft and steady. When they broke apart Bill lowered himself to rest his head on Richie’s chest, Richie’s hand still buried in his hair. Music streamed softly through the back window while Bill traced patterns into Richie’s hip.  
  
“I t-told him ab-about this too, y’know. I told him I w-was going to t-tell you.” Bill finished with several kisses to Richie’s chest.  
  
“I was his favorite anyway, he’d be tickled. But can we save the Georgie talk for when your thumb isn’t sneaking under my belt?” Richie felt Bill’s grin spread against his chest followed by a sharp dig into his hip bone by the offending finger.  
  
“Why, t-trashmouth, this getting you w-worked up?”  
  
Richie rolled his hips up.  
  
“Depends, what’re you gonna do about it?”  
  
The atmosphere shifted before Richie could take another breath, the air around them now aggressively charged. Bill’s grip became forceful, holding Richie still as his other hand slipped under Richie’s shirt, bunching it up around his waist. His earlier kisses were replaced with teasing bites starting at Richie’s navel, moving upwards and taking Richie’s shirt with him. Richie’s grip on his hair tightened encouraging him to begin sucking a hickey into the base of his neck.  
  
“Shit, Bill.” Richie gasped, his hips still straining against Bill’s strong hold. He settled for hooking a leg around Bill’s and pulling him down, finally finding the friction he was getting desperate for. Bill’s body jerked into the feeling, he hummed into Richie’s neck and pushed himself up onto his hands above Richie.  
  
“Hey, Rich?”  
  
“Hey, Bill.”  
  
“Truth or dare?”  
  
Richie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“...now?” Bill only nodded. “What the f-, fine, dare.”  
  
“Jump w-with me.”  
  
“Nu-uh, it took like five fuckin’ hours for my jeans to dry last t-”  
  
“Without them.”  
  
“Wha- oh. Ohh. Okay, fuck yeah.” He yanked Bill in for a kiss while he made quick work of his jeans, pushing them down his thighs. Bill moved to undo his pants but Richie shoved his hands out of the way, replacing them with his own. While he fumbled with the button he dipped his fingers below the waistband of Bill’s boxers, earning himself a hiss from Bill who sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, tearing Richie’s further up his chest to urge him to do the same.  
  
Once he obliged Bill tangled their fingers together and slid himself out of the truck bed, pulling Richie behind him. They reached the edge and met for one more fervent kiss before sliding their boxers off and leaping, hands still intertwined.  
  
This time they found each other before they even surfaced, Richie wrapping himself around Bill, Bill’s hands gripping under his thighs. Richie shivered at the feeling of their bodies pressed tightly together.  
  
“H-holy, f-fuck, Richie.” Bill rasped, grinding his hips forward. Richie returned the motion, beginning a steady rhythm when -  
  
“Richie?” A distant voice called. They froze. “Richie, where are you?” This time they recognized Ben’s voice. Bill dropped his head to Richie’s shoulder just as Richie let out a loud groan. They looked up just in time to see Ben’s face pop over the edge of the cliff quickly followed by Beverly, then Eddie.

“Hey,” Ben shouted down, “we saw your truck, did you know it’s still running? Is that...Bill?”  
  
“Hi, B-Ben.” Bill yelled with sarcastic enthusiasm.  
  
“You guys coming?”  
  
“That was the plan, Benjamin,” Richie replied through gritted teeth. “But do me a favor first, toss my clothes down onto the beach. Just mine though, leave Bill’s.”  
  
Bev’s amused shriek cut through the quiet night.  
  
“Oh my god!”   


  
  
  



	5. moving lips to breathe his name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (NSFW) Bill and Richie just want some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for there to be this much porn i'm sorry
> 
> also, thank you for all your kind words for this fic, it's really what keeps me writing it!

Richie had never truly realized how much his friends were somehow always just _around_ until the stretch of days between Saturday July 23rd and Tuesday July 26th, when he sat with his back resting against Bill’s shins, Bill himself sitting on the Denbrough couch beside Bev. Since their sudden interruption at the quarry Richie and Bill had barely pieced together ten minutes alone together between Bill’s shifts (Richie swore he never worked this much before).

Sunday had been a wash, Bill worked early in the day and Richie was stuck at family game night later on, a tradition Maggie was becoming more rigid about with Richie’s imminent departure drawing closer. He had nearly snuck out the front door around midnight but the promise of their plans to meet at Bill’s the next day before a group movie night tied him over and kept him in his bed.

His music blasted out of the open windows as he drove and he belted along to the upbeat tune. Nothing about this was quite real yet, his train of thought looped in his head like a mantra; _He likes you, you like him, you get to go over there and make out with him, like, a lot. And when he smiles and your heart wants to fall out of your ass you can yell about it from the fuckin’ rooftop if you want because he fuckin’ likes you back._ He threw the car in park in the driveway and bounded up the stairs, slamming Bill’s bedroom door open, stopping short when he found Eddie and Mike already lounging around the room.

“Uhh, why?” He asked, standing stiffly in the doorway. Bill jumped up from his seat at his desk and grabbed Richie’s wrists, pushing him backwards out of the room and hooking his foot around the door, pulling it closed behind him. He spun Richie, shoved his back against the hallway wall and kissed him hard, leaning in to press their bodies together tightly. When he pulled back away he wrapped his arms tightly around Richie’s waist, keeping them connected.

“H-Hi.”

For a moment the sunny grin spread on Bill’s face was enough to distract Richie, he could feel a returning smile growing on his own. But when his eyes flickered to the door he frowned.

“So, E-Eddie and Mike sh-showed up early.”

“And why can’t you tell them to fuck off?” Richie asked, leaning in to bury his face in Bill’s shoulder, nipping at his collarbone.  
  
“They’re s-supposed to be here in l-like an hour anyways and Mike w-was already in town to drop off s-some s-stuff, I wasn’t gonna make him drive all the w-way out there and back.”

“And Eds?”

Bill shrugged.

“B-boundary issues? Sh-showed up a half hour ago.”

Richie huffed into Bill’s shirt and snaked his hands underneath it, digging his fingertips harshly into his lower back to flip them around, pressing Bill’s back to the wall. When he spoke next he punctuated every few words with a kiss to Bill’s neck.

“You’re telling me I’m supposed to wait even longer to have you to myself?” 

Bill sank heavily into the wall, letting Richie’s hold on his hips keep him upright as he tilted his head further, a silent suggestion to continue kissing him that Richie gladly took.

“W-well there’s always the c-couch,” he began, the mirth in his voice veiled with a breathiness that Richie was dying to explore. Richie lifted his eyes, bright and hopeful and grabbed Bill’s hand, beginning to tug him down the stairs.

“N-No! G-god, Richie, it was a j-joke!”

Richie returned in full force, crowding Bill’s space and speaking against his lips while his fingers teased at the waistband of his jeans. 

“Sure I can’t change your mind, Denbrough?” The way Bill’s breath hitched almost had him thinking he had won when the door next to them swung open, Mike shuffling by them to head down the stairs.

“Don’t mind me, just thirsty. ...pun not intended.” Richie squawked out a laugh and gave up his pursuit, slipping through the open door to throw himself on Bill’s bed.

“Fine, I surrender, but only for the sake of Eds’ innocent eyes.”

Eddie only snorted from his place on the floor, keeping his eyes glued to the comic in his hands. Bill took several steps back towards his desk before changing his mind and wheeling towards the bed, climbing on to settle himself next to Richie, their legs stretched out beside each other. When he reached his hand over to tangle their fingers together Richie figured he could wait a little longer as long as they could stay just like this in the meantime.

He had high hopes for Tuesday that were dashed when he remembered they had already planned to go check out some thrift shops for dorm decor, Bev’s idea of course. So now they sat in Bill’s living room surrounded by a few old nightstands and a couple of lamps while Richie pretended to listen to whatever Ben was talking about, his attention really glued to the way Bill would playfully nudge his knee against Richie’s shoulder every few minutes so that Richie would push back a little. When he got tired of staring daggers at the rest of their friends who were clearly not getting the message to clear out he let his head loll back on Bill’s knee and turned his pointed gaze on Bill’s own, a silent conversation passing between them.

“...Bill? Hello?” Bev’s voice interrupted, her fingers snapping impatiently towards him.

“Hm? W-what?”

“I was trying to ask if you’ve heard anything new about school, if you can get your head out of Richie’s ass long enough to answer.” Richie opened his mouth to respond but Bill quickly clapped his hand over it.

“It's b-been like, two weeks Bev. I p-probably won't even know until you all l-leave."

"But you still think you know where you want to go?"

Bill's eyes flickered back to Richie's before returning to Bev.

"Y-yeah, I d-do."

Richie immediately became desperate to be anywhere but right here in this conversation. He popped up to his feet.

"Snacks, I'm stahvin." He announced in his best Brooklyn accent, sauntering into the kitchen. He stretched tall to reach the topmost cabinet where the Denbroughs thought they could hide their favorite chips. When he felt hands wrap around his hips from behind his face fell into a cocky smirk, forgetting the chips in favor of turning and hoisting himself up onto the counter, allowing Bill to step into the space between his thighs.

"Y-you'd think they w-would get the m-m-message, I don't think I've taken m-my eyes off you once y-yet."

"Guess they're not used to pack leader Bill Denbrough looking for some alone time."

"Isn't th-that why I've earned it?" He leaned in for a peck that was way too innocent for the way his hands were traveling up Richie's thighs.

“C-come to the m-movies with me later?”

“Why Billy, are you asking me on a date?” Richie teased, pitching his voice into a terrible impression of a dainty young woman’s.

“F-fuck you, Trashmouth.”

“On the first date?” Richie gasped, pulling on a scandalized expression.

Bill rolled his eyes.

"Why the f-fuck do I like you s-so much?"

"My rugged good looks, my sharp wit, my enormous-"

Bill was already halfway back to the living room, tossing a "beep beep" over his shoulder.

Before Richie could follow him Eddie walked through the wide arch separating the two rooms and started digging in the fridge. _Five bucks it's the iced tea_ Richie thought, laughing to himself when Eddie pulled out a large pitcher of tea. He raised his eyes to Richie as he poured a glass.

"Can I help you?"

"Just been waiting for a second to say thanks for telling me to follow up." He almost finished with: _And thanks for being cool about all this I guess,_ but decided that was maybe a conversation for a different time.

"Yeah well I tried to warn him, but he was pretty fuckin' set on it. On you. Everyone’s gotta make their own mistakes, or whatever people say." He tried to hold a scowl, but it broke into a small, sincere smile. On his way back to the couch he dug his elbow into Richie's side. This time Richie did follow, flinging himself across both Bill and Bev's laps, his head landing on Bill's thigh.

"What time's the movie?"

"T-ten."

"Alright fuckers, you heard it, your welcome expires at 9:30PM sharp and no, none of you are invited.”

Unsurprisingly most everyone stayed right up until Richie’s imposed curfew. Really he couldn’t blame them, it was only four weeks until they scattered and they were all soaking up as much of each other as they could take with them, Richie himself included. But when the front door closed behind Mike and Stan the anticipation finally crashed over the dam he had been building in his chest.

Bill was already shifting towards him on the couch but Richie pounced first, pinning him by flattening himself over his body. The impulse to pause and toss a teasing remark flashed through his head but then Bill’s fingers were threading into his hair so fuck that.

They crashed together, noses bumping awkwardly as they kissed, rushed and determined. Bill's lips were softer than Richie had imagined they would be, but his large hand gripping Richie's hip was just as firm as he had dreamed. Better than any fantasy were the soft groans Richie was pulling from him as he slid a hand under Bill's shirt to run his fingernails over the expanse of his chest. Bill tugged Richie's lower lip between his teeth just as Richie shifted his thigh between Bill's own, pressing up just enough to make Bill shudder and bite down harder than intended.

"Fuck!" Richie hissed as he yanked himself back, his tongue automatically licking over the small drop of blood already forming.

"Sh-shit, s-sorry," Bill faltered, his hand shooting up to hold Richie's cheek. His brow dipped in concern as he pushed onto his elbow. "Are y-you okay?"

But Richie already wasn't paying any attention to the sting in his lip, too distracted by the way Bill's thumb softly ran over his cheek. He turned and pressed a kiss to the tip, nodding.

"I think I will be, you vicious animal."

"G-gross, don't b-bleed on me." Bill wrapped his arms around Richie's back and pulled him back down flat. Richie folded his arms under his chin on top of Bill's chest and let his eyes wander wherever they wanted, enjoying the shameless way he could now follow the gently slope of Bill's nose down to linger on his now slightly swollen lips. His favorite would always be the cloudy blue eyes watching him with what he only now recognized as infatuation, something he knew was reflected in his own dopey gaze.

Somewhere deep in his head he knew they had a lot to talk about. Whatever their future might be was unravelled into a hundred loose threads stretching god knows where. Right now, though, they had a movie to catch.

* * *

On a Tuesday night at 9:56PM they had the theater to themselves. Bill insisted that they sit much too far back for Richie's taste. He leapt over the row of seats in front of him and was still unsatisfied, stretching his lanky limbs over a few more rows. He turned to call over his shoulder.

"C'mon, Big Bill. Unless you're too chicken shit to sit up this close. Don't worry, I'll protect you." Instead, Bill lifted himself primly out of his seat and strolled back a few more rows.

"Oh you little shit," Richie began, standing on his chair and carefully stepping across each seat in the row until he got to the end, stomping to the ground when he arrived. He sped back to where Bill was sitting and tried to grab his arm to yank him to his feet. Bill took the opportunity to clasp his hand over Richie's, lacing their fingers together and holding him firmly in place.

"I l-like it b-back here. More p-private."

Richie almost argued that there was literally no one else here, but he liked the implication enough that he could let it go. He plopped into the seat beside Bill with a huff and squeezed his hand tighter.

"Fine, probably better anyways so you aren't too scared by the big bad wolf."

The lights dimmed then and they fell into their habit of riffing off of the trailers, Bill supplying absurd storylines while Richie provided ridiculous voiceovers. When the opening credits began they silenced each other with exaggerated shushing noises and Bill threatening to bite Richie again if he didn't shut up.

The silence lasted less than a minute before Richie was spouting off a Joker impression inspired by nothing more than Jack Nicholson's name across the screen. Bill glared at him. He grinned back. Nicholson was immediately followed by Michelle Pfeiffer and how was Richie supposed to resist purring out a few lines from Catwoman? Bill's glare was faltering, the corner of his lips twitching up. He turned himself back to the screen and Richie assumed he was about to be ignored, left to his own ridiculous devices.

He was right for about twenty minutes, Bill appeared to be engrossed in the campy film, paying Richie no mind. Richie himself was getting a little antsy. His leg started to shake, a common symptom of his restlessness. Without looking to him Bill disentangled his hand from Richie's and placed it on his thigh instead, steadying the motion. Richie tried to settle back in his seat, leaning back and looping his arm behind Bill's shoulders. Despite his best attempt to tune into the film the weight of Bill's hand on his thigh was distracting, especially now that he was slowly spreading his fingers while pressing just slightly with the tips. Richie tried to catch his eye but he remained facing away even as his hand slid higher, his thumb brushing over where Richie's hip met his leg.

Richie tightened his arm around Bill's shoulders while his eyes stared at his fingers sneaking towards the button of his jeans. He inhaled sharply when they dipped under his waistband. He let out the breath in a low whistle when they actually undid the button and began working his zipper down. Bill still had not given him so much as a sideways glance, but Richie could make out a small smirk on his face that grew when Richie wiggled his hips to push his jeans down enough that Bill's hand could fit comfortably into the space he created.

He twisted his wrist to palm Richie gently through his boxers.

"Fuck, Billy." Richie groaned.

"Shh, w-we're at the movies." His grip was slowly tightening over Richie's growing erection, his thumb teasing underneath the top of his boxers. He froze when he saw a small spot of light traveling down the hallway by the door. He had barely pulled his hand back when a young employee strolled past them, his flashlight highlighting his path. They waited for him to make his rounds, Richie barely holding his laughter behind his palm clasped over his mouth. They were both surprised when, instead of leaving, the boy plopped himself in the front row and flicked off his light, intending to use the theater as a calm place to wait out the rest of his shift.

 _Okay, new theory_ , Richie thought, _I died that night we jumped off the cliff. This is purgatory, or maybe even hell. I’m destined to have the world’s bluest balls_ . _Forever_. Still, he settled himself back in his seat, ready to wait out the rest of the movie.

Bill, however, had other plans.

“Fuck this,” he growled, shooting to his feet and grabbing Richie’s arm to pull him along. He marched them through the lobby and shouldered roughly through the glass doors. When they reached Richie’s truck he threw the door open, pushing Richie through it and climbing in on top of him. He straddled Richie’s lap and buried his hands in his hair, connecting them in a filthy kiss, his tongue immediately invading Richie’s mouth. For a second Richie had to remind himself again that this was real, he wasn’t going to wake up when it started to get really good. He allowed Bill to take the lead so that he could just focus on how fucking good it felt to have Bill’s actual hands tugging at his hair, to have Bill’s actual weight resting on his thighs, to feel Bill’s actual lips mouthing at his neck.  

His chest heaved rapidly as his head rolled back to land heavily the back of the seat and Bill’s fingers made quick work of his jeans, his previously teasing pace completely abandoned. He slid his hands under Richie to roughly hike his ass upwards, squeezing with his palms before moving to shuffle Richie’s pants down again. This time he took his boxers down with them and Richie gasped at the sudden cold. He really didn’t have time to suffer though because Bill wasted no time wrapping his hand around Richie’s renewed erection and setting a fervent pace, his hand sliding smoothly between the base and the head where a subtle twist of his wrist had Richie moaning into his mouth while he rekindled their frenzied kiss.

The feeling of Bill’s own hard length pressing into his thigh jerked Richie into action. He busied himself with unbuttoning Bill’s jeans, pushing at the waistband of his underwear to free his cock and matching Bill’s relentless pumping pace.

“Oh shit, Richie.” Bill keened, his head falling to Richie’s shoulder.

Richie thought he should record that to listen to on loop forever.

Bill’s other hand started sneaking down the back of Richie’s jeans, making Richie whine and start rolling his hips in an unconscious, shallow rhythm. A particularly sharp thrust caused them to brush against each other and Bill swore again. Shoving Richie’s hand out of his way he tilted his hips forward, spit messily into his palm, and wrapped his hand tightly around both of them. The heat of Bill’s cock flush against his own sent Richie babbling,

“Fuck fuck fuck, Billy, oh my _god_ …”

Bill smirked through his own scrunched expression and pressed their foreheads together.

“B-been waiting so long f-for this, Rich,” he grunted “so l-long to get my hands on you.”

Richie was drowning in the deep tone of his voice, his hips started stuttering up to meet Bill’s hand while he drew in deep breaths of his aftershave, suffocating in the sensations. He fisted his hand in Bill’s hair and pulled him impossibly closer as he neared the edge. An especially tight stroke electrified the pool building in his stomach and pushed him over.

A strangled “gonna cum” was all he managed before he was spilling over his own abdomen and Bill’s hand. Bill groaned and released Richie before speeding up on his own, chasing an orgasm that crashed over him when Richie dug his thumbs into the hollows of his hip bones and murmured encouragements against his lips.

“Come on Billy, for me?”

They came down together, breathing heavily into each others’ mouths.

“God damn, Denbrough.” Richie sighed. Bill started groping behind himself, unlatching the glove compartment to grab some crumpled napkins. He did his best to wipe up their mess and chucked the napkin on the floor, buttoning his jeans and slipping onto the seat beside Richie. His eyes were closed as he hummed a vague agreement.

“Home?” Richie sighed lazily.

“Only if y-you’re staying over.” Bill replied.

He lay himself down on the seat with his head resting on Richie’s thigh as they drove. One of Richie’s hands fells into his hair, softly twisting the thin strands around his fingers. Before they were even out of the parking lot Richie switched on the radio, the music streaming low from the speakers.

_“Show me how you do it and I'll promise you,_

_I'll promise that I'll run away with you, I'll run away with you”_

* * *

 

This time when Richie woke up next to Bill he didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms, peppering kisses onto his cheeks and then onto his lips.

“One for every time I’ve ever wanted to do that.”

Bill responded by catching Richie in a long, languid kiss, his eyes still closed as he spoke earnestly.

“So w-why didn’t you?”

Richie flopped onto his back and pondered the question.

“Few reasons, I guess. High reward, high risk, wouldn’t wanna freak you out if you weren't into it. I couldn’t lose you over it.” He was surprised by the honesty in his voice.

 _I still can’t_ , he thought, but pushed that aside before continuing.

“And then once I figured out the gay thing wouldn’t be a problem I was pretty sure you were still trying to bone Stan the Man,” he continued, sheepishly. Bill barked out a laugh.

“W-what? Why?”

“Fuck off, hear me out. Stan told me about...whatever you two did a while back. Don’t be mad at him, I basically shook it out of him.” Bill shook his head dismissively, clearly unbothered.

“Okay, so then that night that Stan and Mike got together you got all weird when they went to fuck around, all mopey. And then like every time they were together and being coupley you would get weird again and stare super hard away from them, usually at me so it was hard not to notice. Plus your stutter would get bad. I just figured you were bummed that it was Mike and not you.”

Bill finally opened his eyes and gave Richie an amused look, his mouth curving into a grin at the corner.

“So y-you caught me staring at you all the f-fucking time and assumed it meant I wanted Stan?”

“...Yep.”

“Rich, I figured you already knew about me and S-Stan. I d-didn’t think you guys had secrets, but it was good of him to k-keep it. No, I don’t w-want Stan. It just d-drove me crazy that they w-were getting what I wanted so bad with you.”

“So what the fuck were _you_ waiting for?”

_Why the fuck did we waste so much time?_

“I d-dunno, I figured it out while you w-were still with Eddie so it was just normal that I c-couldn’t do anything about it. It’s hard to know how l-long to wait before telling your best friend you w-want to get with his ex.”

More than an entire year they had danced around each other. The idea overwhelmed Richie, regret bashing at his ribcage. He kissed Bill again and it felt like the first time all over, both of them desperate to make up the lost time. His hands twisted into Bill’s shirt as he rolled to hover over him.

He hadn't (really) intended to start anything but when he flipped a leg over Bill's hip for a steadier position he also felt a shiver up his spine when they brushed together just right. He pulled back in a rare moment of self-control just in case Bill wanted to keep talking about feelings or whatever. That's when he noticed that Bill's t-shirt was just a little too big and had slid just a little off his shoulder, exposing a peek of his pale collarbone. Richie could be good once, but twice in a row with Bill underneath him, his face flushed and messy hair perfectly skewed over his forehead, was asking way too much.

He dove in with sucking kisses that he knew would be leaving a deep bruise if he stuck around long enough. His hands slipped under the hem of the t-shirt and he flicked his eyes upwards to make sure Bill was on board. The heated gaze he found was more than convincing. He began to ruck Bill's shirt up roughly around his waist but paused. So far everything between them had been frantic, driven by the reckless energy they had always brought out in each other.

But they were more than that, and Richie wanted this to be more than that. He wanted more of the calm afternoons they spent together just laughing at nothing. He wanted all the terrifyingly exciting adult bullshit they were about to dive headfirst into. He even wanted the hard, shitty parts like when Bill was feeling especially lonely or Richie was convinced everyone secretly hated him.

He continued pushing Bill’s shirt up, slowly this time, and leaned in to trace the top of Bill’s ribs with kisses. He looked back into Bill’s eyes as he moved lower, dragging his lips down the center of Bill’s stomach. He held his contact with Bill’s hooded gaze as he started to run his hands deliberately over Bill’s thighs, rubbing his thumbs in small circles as he pushed them apart to make room for himself. Bill let them fall apart easily, his breath coming in quick bursts. Richie slid a hand up to press soothingly at his heaving chest, although the pressure seemed to have the opposite effect. He left his hand there to feel Bill’s quickening heartbeat while his teeth dragged Bill’s boxers down barely and inch a time. Bill’s hand shot down to his hair, but he didn’t pull this time, just rested it in Richie’s soft curls.

By the time Richie’s hands moved to finish pulling off his underwear Bill was squirming impatiently on the bed. Richie smirked up at him, relishing his power. His hands resumed their tortuously slow exploration of Bill’s thighs, and his mouth followed, kissing the skin in their wake.

“R-Richie, please.” Bill pleaded in an uneven voice.

“Mm, I could get used to hearing that.”

Before Bill could throw back a retort Richie lifted himself and pulled the head of his cock into his mouth, humming a pleased response to Bill’s strangled moan. He slid his lips further down and let his tongue drag flat and heavy on the way back up before setting a medium pace still slow enough to drive Bill a little crazy.

“Fuck yes, R-Rich.”

Bill’s fingers tightened in his hair and Richie felt him start to push down lightly before remembering himself and releasing the pressure. Richie almost paused to encourage him but decided it could wait.

_Next time, Billy. This time it’s up to me._

With one last lazy swipe of his tongue Richie sped up, finding a rhythm that was bringing Bill closer to the edge with every dip. Richie had been hard since somewhere around the beginning of his merciless teasing and the way Bill’s breathy moans were shooting straight to his dick was making that painfully obvious. He snaked a hand into his own underwear to thrust into it, moaning around Bill who was having a hard time keeping his hips flat on the bed.

“I-I,...”

Richie felt Bill start to pull away, but grabbed his hips to hold him there, staring hard into his eyes in silent encouragement. Bill’s responding groan was loud enough that Richie had a brief thought of hoping they weren’t about to get caught. It ended abruptly when he felt Bill spill onto his tongue, pushing him into his own shivering orgasm. He watched Bill’s eyes widen slightly when he swallowed and laughed to himself when he realized he hadn’t really considered the gap in their gay sex experience.

 _This’ll be fun_.

Bill head fell heavily back onto his pillow. He puffed out his cheeks with a loud exhale. Richie draped himself over him, his head resting on Bill’s chest. Bill brought his hand to rest between his shoulder blades and absentmindedly stroked his thumb back and forth there.

“D-did you-”

“Yep.” Richie interrupted. “Gonna need to borrow a fresh pair.”

“Ugh, I hate that th-that’s as hot as it is d-disgusting.”

“Can I use that? It’ll be my tagline.”

He was too surprised to react when Bill shoved him to land on the floor.

Against Richie’s determined suggestions, Bill was adamant that they shower separately and that Richie go first “because of the cum.”

“Such a way with words, William. Fine, I’ll go alone. All alone. By myself. To the lonely shower. Alone.”

“G-gotta leave _something_ to l-look forward to, loser.”

* * *

Richie was in the kitchen making coffee when Bill came down in fresh sweatpants, his hair still dripping onto his bare back. When he came to wrap his arms around Richie’s waist Richie smiled to himself at the memory of his own daydreams about this moment. It was a little backwards, but he might have liked this version even better. He leaned his head back into Bill’s shoulder as he waited for the coffee to finish dripping. Bill pressed a kiss to his temple, murmuring into his hair.

“C-come sit with me when it’s d-done, I want t-to ask you about something.”

An anxious chill bloomed in Richie’s chest, but he stamped it, he had nothing to be nervous about. Except that everything was going a little too well, maybe.

With two full mugs in hand he obediently perched himself in the chair across from Bill at the kitchen table, sliding one across to him.

“S-so, I didn’t want to s-say anything before I knew I c-could get the time off from work, but I’ve b-been taking a b-bunch of other people’s shifts so I could w-work it out.”

Richie’s brow quirked up in confusion, waiting for the payoff.

“I found out that an i-interview really ups y-your shot of getting into NYU s-so I thought maybe you would want to c-come with me? It’s n-next week. If you d-don’t want to u-use your own truck we could p-probably bo-”

Richie was barely listening, his mind already racing through the excitement of going away with Bill, driving down an open highway, exploring a new place together, sharing a room for just the two of them. Bill was still nervously babbling when Richie flung himself across the table to shut him up with a kiss.

“When do we leave?”

 


	6. show me show me show me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i'm actually here updating this!!!! thank you to the people who left encouraging comments, it probably would never have happened otherwise.
> 
> heads up, this chapter is both tooth-rottlingly fluffy and NSFW.

“F-fuck off, it’s definitely Fleetwood M-Mac, Tozier.”

“Close second, Billy boy, but Bowie is undeniably the road trip music master.” To illustrate his point Richie cranked the song that had started this argument, drowning out Bill’s response. Warm wind whipped the curls out of his face as he leaned out the window and belted along. Bill grabbed his arm to point out another state sign flying by.

“Welcome to C-Connecticut!” he yelled victoriously.

 

They had left Derry at, as Richie had put it, “the ass crack of dawn” (seven o’clock in the morning) and grumbled their way into the truck. The ride had started in grumpy, tired silence until they downed a coffee each and split a box of donut holes between them. Richie had tried to blindly toss a few sideways at Bill's open mouth but gave up when they had sacrificed too many to the floor. After fighting over the last few glazed the box finally sat empty between them.

"G-gross, my f-fingers are all sticky." Without missing a beat Richie shot a hand out to grab Bill's own and pulled two fingers into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the tips when Bill jerked it back and wiped them off on Richie's shoulder.

"Eugh, w-was that s-supposed to be sexy?"

"So you're not thinking about your dick in my mouth now?" Richie chided, putting on a wide grin at Bill's slight flush. "If you weren't before you definitely are now, so: mission accomplished."

Bill sputtered and fell into a brief thoughtful silence before undoing his seatbelt and sliding across the bench seat to press himself into Richie's side. His spoke in a low purr, almost whispering into Richie's ear.

"M-might want to watch it, Trashmouth. I've g-got you trapped. You're n-not the only one who can tease."

Richie's grip tightened on the wheel and the truck jerked a little when Bill's fingers dug sharply into his thigh. He hissed and let his legs fall a little farther apart but Bill only chuckled and moved back to his seat, buckling the seatbelt with a loud click.

 

Now as they sped past the Connecticut border Richie thought he might have never been happier, not even once in his entire life. But he had thought that at least once a day for the last seven, so he had high hopes for tomorrow. The week had passed in a blur of messy kisses, wandering hands, and starry nights. They had taken to bringing their sleeping bags out to the quarry and crashing in Richie's truck bed.

On nights that the rest of the Losers were there they sat side by side by the fire leaning into each other, Bill pressing frequent kisses into Richie's wild hair. Bev never got tired of making fake gagging noises at them when they were especially insufferable, though Richie would complain that they had nothing on Mike and Stan's sugary sweet PDA, those two couldn’t go more than a few minutes without getting lost in staring at each other. Stan always looked ready to fire something back but Mike’s easy shrug usually ended the argument before it could really begin.  
  
Richie was still a little wary of Eddie’s reaction, watching him carefully. But he never found any trace of resentment and the anxious weight was starting to lift more from his shoulders the longer they spent together. In fact, he was a little shocked at how much _didn’t_ change. His wildest dream was unfolding and it somehow fit perfectly into his life. He knew there would be a time for compromises somewhere down the road, he had no idea what this would look like once he was across the country at school, but for now he would ride this wave as far as it would take him.

 

On nights that they were alone they lay in the truck bed and made up fake constellations, waiting to see who would break first and start sneaking their hands under the other's clothes. Richie felt like he could melt into these nights, here in their own private universe. He had thought he would know everything about what being with Bill would be like, informed by their years of friendship; But then Bill would surprise him with a sincere, quiet compliment or a soft brush of his hand over Richie's cheek and it made Richie realize that their coming together was not the culmination of a friendship, but instead a jumping off point to go beyond the easy laughter and adventurous afternoons they had become so used to.

"Why here?" He had blurted one night while they sat side by side in the truck bed.

"Hm?"

"Why did you want to tell me here? Why not just spit it out?"

"It s-started as just a way to m-make sure we w-were alone that one n-night. But then that w-was a bust. I th-thought about doing it somewhere else but actually w-we were here when it hit m-me that I l-liked you. S-so it just felt r-right...” he trailed off, mumbling into his own shoulder. Richie grabbed his face between his wide palms and leaned in for a sloppy kiss.  
  
“You absolute sap, Bill Denbrough! Guess that’s what I signed up for shacking up with a writer boyfriend.”  
  
It was Richie’s turn to feel shy when he realized what he had said. They hadn’t thrown that word around yet, hadn’t tried to put any definition around themselves. He gaped a little like a fish for a few seconds before he started prattling.  
  
“I mean, uh, if, I don’t know if, y’know…”  
  
Bill moved quickly to silence him with a finger held to his lips.

“Hey R-Rich, wanna be my b-boyfriend?” Richie grinned against Bill’s finger and felt his voice spill out, earnest and almost pleading.  
  
“So badly.”  
  
“Y-you sap, Richie Tozier,” Bill repeated, leaning down to connect them in a gentle kiss.

 

That one had been hard to top, Richie admitted to himself. Still, this feeling of absolute freedom with Bill beside him almost made him sure they were invincible. He looked over to Bill poring over a map trying to find the parking garage just outside of the city where they would leave the truck for the weekend. This trip was a small thing but they were doing it, just the two of them, and that meant something. He reached over to lace their fingers together, lifting Bill’s hand to kiss each of his knuckles. 

Finding the parking garage had been easy, finding their way to their hotel was not. They had splurged for a shitty room in Manhattan to make Bill's commute to and from his interview easier. They rode one train straight in the wrong direction for three stops and took another that had a different route depending on the time of day (it was the wrong time of day). Eventually they got used to the street system, and found the place, dragging themselves past the busted elevator and up the seven flights of stairs to their room.

Richie flung himself on the bed with a loud groan, an arm slung dramatically over his eyes.

"G-get up, remember, we brought e-extra sheets."

"No, I remember Eddie suggesting we bring extra sheets. And I remember definitely not doing that."

"Get up, asshole."

Richie obliged by slipping off the bed like a rag doll, falling to his knees before letting his chest hit the tattered maroon carpet.

"Don't come n-near me until you've w-washed your face after being on that d-disgusting floor."

"I might actually be too tired to fight you on that. I'll just be here. Sleeping."

When Bill finished pulling on the new sheets he wrapped his arms around Richie's waist and heaved, not actually very effective considering their similar heights. Still, Richie moved to his knees and then to his feet, grabbing Bill's hips and throwing them both on the bed. He buried his face in Bill's neck to hide from the sun blaring in through the window and let himself finally drift to sleep.

He woke to a dark, quiet room. Bill must have pulled the shades down before slipping back into bed where he still lay, turned away from Richie and snoring lightly. Richie looped an arm around and his waist and tugged him closer, squeezing a low groan from him. Richie pulled the sheet over their heads and rested his cheek on Bill’s shoulder.

“Come on, sleeping beauty, the city awaits.

“It w-will still b-be there in ten minutes.”  
Richie poked Bill sharply in the side and Bill responded with surprising strength for someone who was still nearly asleep. He flipped himself over and pinned Richie flat with his chest, still holding the thin white sheet over their heads, the heat growing stifling.

“Gonna punish me for it, Billy?” But Bill just grinned and kissed him, his hands dropping the sheet in favor of holding Richie’s face.

“I’m g-gonna shower before we g-go anywhere.”

“That an invitation?”  
  
No answer, but Bill’s hands moved to pull the top button of Richie’s shirt open. He placed a kiss on the newly exposed skin before moving to do the same to the next button, and the next, relishing Richie’s shivers with a slow, languid pace. He nosed at the waistband of Richie’s jeans, raising his pale blue eyes to meet Richie’s rapidly darkening brown. His fingers snuck under, so close to the button, almost on the zipper. And then he popped up, bouncing off the bed and towards the bathroom.  
  
“You motherfucker!” Richie shouted after him, flinging the blanket off of himself and chasing Bill into the bathroom, assuming the cracked door was as good as a welcome mat. Bill had already pulled off his own shirt and was reaching into the cramped shower to turn on the water. The smirk on his face told Richie he had been expecting him. He ran his hands up Richie’s arms until his fingers skimmed along his collarbone, slipping under his undone shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders. Richie watched him reverently, shrugging the soft cotton off of himself into a forgotten pile on the floor, soon joined by two pairs of dark jeans.  
  
He followed Bill into the cramped plastic shower and pulled the curtain closed, the tacky pattern illuminated by the flickering overhead light. There was nowhere to go except right in front of each other, but Richie still wanted to be closer. He leaned forward and connected their lips in an insistent kiss, pushing them back enough that the water was rushing over them, flattening their hair and leaving tracks down their cheeks. Richie felt the warmth of it on his tongue when he pushed into Bill’s mouth, his arms moving to wrap around his waist and pull them flush.  
  
He broke away to trail his lips down Bill’s neck, resting his head rest on Bill’s shoulder and letting himself just _be_ there. His hands wandered, determined to learn the curves of Bill’s back by heart. This was new, the feeling of being totally alone together. No chance of being interrupted by clueless parents or nosy friends. Bill pressed a kiss to his temple and murmured in his ear.  
  
“Let’s just stay here.”  
  
Richie wasn’t sure if he meant here in the shower, here in the city, here wrapped up in each other, but it didn’t matter. His answer was yes. Absolutely, always, yes. He hummed and nosed into Bill’s neck, biting playfully, earning a pinch to his hip. He began to kiss the spot apologetically, starting with small pecks that soon grew slow and hot. Bill’s hands pressed into his lower back, encouraging, his fingertips gripping into the dimples there.  
  
Steam swirled around them now, the only proof to Richie that any time had passed at all. He breathed deep and brought his arms up to rest on Bill’s shoulders, leaving his body vulnerable. Bill took the cue. He reached behind Richie to the small bottle of hotel brand body wash, opening the cap with a sharp click and pouring it onto his hand. The air around them suddenly held a fruity, lively smell. Bill rubbed the soap between his hands until it was a bubbly white lather and ran his hands down Richie’s sides, quicking his heartbeat.

Richie scratched his fingernails over Bill’s shoulder blades as Bill’s hands continued to slide lower, around Richie’s back, down to his ass. Richie groaned and pushed back into his hold. Bill tensed and nearly growled, the sound low in his throat. He dug his fingers into Richie’s hips and flipped him around so he stood behind Richie, his chest pressing against Richie’s back. His cock teased at the cleft of Richie’s ass as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to his shoulder, making Richie’s knees buckle. This was also new, they hadn’t actually talked about sex yet. Bill shifted his hips, grinding himself forward.  
  
“Fuck, Billy,” Richie whined. He let his head hang forward, the harsh spray hitting the back of his neck as he was rocked gently forward, losing himself in the rhythm, in the heavy drag of Bill’s cock against him until suddenly he shivered, realizing a second too late what was happening.  
  
“Oh fuck, that’s cold!” Richie jumped out of the way of the shower head, almost causing both of them to crash to the floor if Bill didn’t grab the curtain rod and steady them, Richie leaning heavily against his chest. Once the shock wore off they both doubled over, laughing, while Bill yanked two towels off the nearby rack and tossed one onto Richie’s back.

\--

The city buzzed with energy that brought Richie to life, his eyes darting around in a way that definitely betrayed him as a tourist. By the time they had dressed and torn themselves away from lazing around in the hotel bed the sun was setting, peeking through at intersections as they crossed blocks with no particular destination in mind.  
  
“What’s the dinner budget like?”  
  
“Hmm, t-ten bucks?”  
  
“McDicks it is!” Richie steered them into one of the hundred McDonalds they had seen. They sat huddled in the only open table in the corner of the restaurant, Bill squeezed against the wall and a five year old, Richie in the stiff plastic chair across from him.

“What time do you have to be there tomorrow?”  
  
“Eleven.”  
  
“You know how to get there?”  
  
“I th-think so,” Bill shrugged. “I’ll leave early.”  
  
“What do they even ask you at that kind of thing, like, ‘do you think you’ll get famous enough to send us money for the rest of your life?’”  
  
Bill snorted, his eyes glued to the tray in front of him.  
  
“Are you nervous?”  
  
“S-sort of, I guess.” Richie nudged his knee against Bill’s under the table, sending him a smile he hoped was reassuring, but might have just been kind of forced. Either way Bill smiled back and stood, crumpling his food wrappers.   
  
“Let’s g-get out of here. I wanna go to the p-park.”

They stood on the nearest corner for five minutes trying to orient themselves, eventually asking a young woman for directions. They counted as they walked up, 56th, 57th, 58th, until eventually they saw the sprawling entrance to the park across a wide rotary. The sun had sunk below the skyline now, ready to disappear any minute. Richie dug in his pockets for enough cash for a couple of giant ice cream cones and they walked slowly through the winding paths, their fingers brushing but not quite brave enough to hold each other.

One right turn brought them down a thin walkway and across a bridge, tall grass and bright wildflowers decorating the edges of the small pond below. Richie snagged the edge of Bill's sleeve and yanked him towards a wide oak tree by the water. He dropped down to sit leaning against it, pulling Bill down with him. The thick trunk hid them from most of the passerby.

It was rare that Richie didn't feel the need to fill silence, never quite comfortable enough in his skin to just let things be, but here the bustling streets made plenty of white noise to hum along to. That, and Bill’s hand finally folding into his own left him carefree and content, his head rolling onto Bill’s shoulder. Bill kissed his temple and shifted his bag around on his lap, opening the buckle and pulling out a beat up cassette walkman. The headphones were tangled, the wires starting to lose their plastic coating. Bill carefully undid the knots and plugged them into the tape deck. He balanced the headphones by Richie’s ear and leaned his own head down close enough to hear the soft rock mix coming through. Richie recognized it immediately, the mix he had made Bill for his birthday. He hummed along, letting his thoughts drift along with the music.  
  
_We could steal time, just for one day…_

Or two, or three, a hundred.

 _Oh I can't fight this feeling any longer…_  
  
He snorted, everyone knew he hated this song, and Bill especially liked to belt it out loud along with the radio whenever he was trapped in a car with his asshole friends. It had been sort of an inside joke when he added it, the irony too strong.  
  
_I never thought tonight could ever be_  
_This close to me…_  
  
The lyrics pulled up the memory of Bill’s hands on his waist, sliding down, pulling him closer. He thought about the hotel bed, suddenly so inviting, and he felt a small shiver in his spine.

 _It's the stupid details that my heart is breaking for  
_ _It's the way your shoulders shake and what they're shaking for…_

If he could make this mix over again it wouldn’t have so much angst, it would be nothing but dumb, upbeat tracks that vibed with the giddy feeling that had surrounded him for the past two weeks. Maybe even some more REO Speedwagon, he smiled to himself as he played it in his head, ‘ _I don't wanna sleep, I just wanna keep on loving you…_ ’ Bill shifting beside him brought him back to reality, to the music actually coming through the small speakers now.

 _Well, I've been afraid of changing_  
_'Cause I've built my life around you._  
  
He pushed the headphones away from his ear, standing abruptly. Bill looked up at him curiously. Richie offered his hands, pulling Bill to his feet before pushing him against the tree and kissing him, hard but closed-mouthed, pinning Bill with it. He slid his hand into Bill’s pocket to reach the cassette player and held the headphones between them again, they were still close enough that their lips brushed as Richie pressed the fast forward button, he reached the end of the song, played it to check his progress, and hit fast forward again, past all the empty space he had left in between. Bill’s eyebrows dipped, confused. Richie chuckled.  
  
“Never made it all the way to the end?”  
  
“Wh-” A soft melody interrupted his question. Richie kissed him again, softly moving his lips over Bill’s. This is what Richie would remember, he told himself, this moment, this weekend, this summer. He used the rushing of the city to help him push away thoughts of _but what next?_  
  
And I love you, I love you, I love you  
_Like never before._

 --

Their walk back was fueled by flustered, nervous energy. They laughed at nothing, shoving each other only to pull each other back, shamelessly holding hands now. The crowd was too thick for anyone to notice, so they got to enjoy their own bubble, grinning at each other. There was a growing tension, an unspoken expectation that had Richie almost skipping to get back. They took the stairs two a time, racing each other down the hallway to the door. Richie got there first, just barely, and stood with his hand on the doorknob, calling over his shoulder.

"I win, loser!"

Bill crowded into his space, smirking. He grabbed Richie's hands and held them to the door, pressing his front against Richie's back. He spoke into Richie's neck, his breath hot, and rolled his hips forward.

"This your prize?"

Richie grinned and pulled his wrist out of Bill’s grip to fish in his pocket for the room key and unlock the door, almost sending them both to the floor for the second time that day when he pushed it open.

"J-jesus, again?”

Richie ignored him, jogging to jump up on the bed, his head nearly hitting the ceiling. Bill flicked on the small lamp on the bedside table and threaded himself to lay between Richie's ankles.

"Get down here."

"Make me." Bill did just that, grabbing Richie's leg and pushing it sideways until it slipped off the bed. Richie fell on him with a loud huff, one of his knees landing squarely on Bill's thigh. He folded in half, clutching his leg.

"Sh-sh-Shit, that f-fucking hurts." Richie was laughing, adjusting so he was straddling Bill's knees.

"Need me to kiss it better?" Not waiting for an answer, Richie leaned down to pepper quick kisses to Bill's inner thigh, moving his lips up until he reached his waistband and pushing his shirt up out the way so he could continue the trail up Bill's stomach.

"Get up here," Bill's voice was already gruff, his tone commanding in a way that shot heat through Richie's gut. He looked up through his lashes to find Bill watching him with a dark stare, the low light turning his blue eyes almost hazel around wide pupils. Automatically Richie slid up to take Bill's bottom lip between his own, worrying it with his teeth. Bill groaned and nudged Richie's lips apart with his tongue, digging his fingertips harshly into Richie's sides. Rocking his hips, Richie could already feel Bill hardening against him and he proceeded to grind down, teasing through their thick jeans. Bill inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands moving down to Richie's ass and pulling him down, snapping his own hips up. Imagining the feeling without the barriers, Richie groaned and buried his face in Bill's neck. Bill kept up his desperate pantomime, bouncing Richie in his lap while his hips stuttered rhythmically upwards.

"You gonna fuck me, Billy?" Richie rasped in his ear. Bill whined and nodded, indulging in one more slow grind before moving his hands to Richie's waist instead and stilling his hips. Richie pulled himself back, drinking in Bill's flushed cheeks, placing his hands on Bill's chest to feel his panting breath.

"Is th-that okay?"

Richie barked out a surprised laugh at Bill's quiet question.

"I'm close to beggin' you for it, Big Bill."

"I j-just didn't know if y-you were fine with being on th-that end," Bill argued, "I k-kinda figur-"

"Figured Eds did all the receiving? Close but no cigar," Richie hopped up off the bed and headed towards the bathroom. "Be right back." Bill quirked an eyebrow at him. "This is the not so glamorous part," he called, twisting the shower knob and testing the spray out with his hand. Warm again, but he had learned his lesson. He worked quickly, landing back on the bed with only a towel around his waist in ten minutes.

Bill's eyes traced a zig zag pattern down his throat, his chest, the thin line of hair on his abdomen. He had ditched his jeans and was lazily palming himself through his boxers, his back propped up against the headboard. Richie leaned over the side of the bed to unzip his bag, pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom. Bill snorted at him.  
“Planning this, T-Tozier?”  
  
“Weren’t you?”

“My bottle is b-bigger,” Bill said nodding towards his own bag.  
  
“It’s not the size, it’s how you use it,” Richie teased, turning onto his knees and pushing Bill’s hand aside, replacing it with his own. Bill’s head dropped back against the headboard and he hummed, a smile playing at his lips. Richie crawled to lean over him, pulling his shirt collar to the side to suck wet kisses into his sharp collarbone. He snuck his hands underneath Bill’s shirt, running his fingers over the barely there abs, delighting in the way Bill shuddered from even the light touch. He wrenched the shirt over Bill’s head and tossed it to the floor.  
  
Beneath him Bill’s hands fumbled with the damp towel around his waist, loosening it enough to pull it off and drop it beside his discarded shirt. He wrapped his hand around Richie’s length, nipping at his ear.  
  
“Lube, now,” Richie’s voice was hoarse, his breath coming in tight gasps as Bill twisted his wrist. Picking up the bottle from where Richie had dropped it beside his leg, Bill popped the cap. Richie reached for it, but Bill shook his head.  
  
“I w-want to do it.” Richie groaned, nodding. He shuddered a little at the cold when Bill’s finger reached behind him to circle his rim, teasing, until it finally pushed in, taking Richie’s breath.  
  
“Is that good?” Bill whispered, his wide eyes blown out.  
  
“So good,” Richie answered, his hips straining back to find more, “move.” One finger soon became two, then three as Bill carefully took him apart. He was moving gently, too gently for Richie’s taste.  
  
“I’m not gonna break, Billy” he laughed. Bill took the challenge, thrusting his fingers up roughly and picking up an intense pace that had Richie falling into his chest and crying out in time with Bill’s motions.  
  
“Fuck, okay, stop.”

Bill looked worried, but it melted away when Richie reached for the condom, tearing it open easily and rolling it over Bill’s cock. Wasting no more time, Richie lifted himself and lined Bill up with his hole, slowly sinking down until he felt Bill’s thighs against him.  
  
“Holy f-f-fuck Richie,” Bill hissed, dropping his forehead to Richie’s shoulder. Richie shifted his hips but Bill’s hands shot up to stop him. “W-wait, d-don’t do anything yet.” Richie smirked into Bill’s hair, wiggling a little anyways. Bill took a deep breath, exhaling and biting at Richie’s skin.  
  
“Now?” Richie asked.

“N-now,” he agreed.  
  
Richie leaned forward and rocked back in slow, shallow motions, feeling Bill chasing him with this hips. It had been a while, and even Richie was feeling a little overwhelmed by the sensation, how full he felt. A particularly hard thrust by Bill underneath him made him shudder and slam down harder, chasing the feeling.  
  
“Sh-shit, can I?” Bill was pulling on his waist, trying to twist Richie down onto the mattress. He rolled over onto his back, spreading his thighs so Bill could kneel between them. Steadying himself with one hand, the other by Richie’s chest on the bed, he guided himself back inside, his eyes fluttering shut.  
  
“Shit you’re big, so fucking good” Richie whined as he wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders. Bill’s hips snapped forward at the praise, stuttering harshly. He hid his face in Richie’s neck, grunting lightly as he drove forward. Filthy sounds filled the dim room, spurring on the fire in Richie’s gut, he tuned into the rhythm of the satisfying smack of their skin against each other. He wrapped a hand around the back of Bill’s neck and whispered into his ear, teasing with dirty questions and enthusiastic praise. He felt when Bill started to shake, felt the tight grip on his bicep, felt the pulse of Bill’s cock inside him as he spilled into the condom, cursing into Richie’s neck. He dropped his weight onto Richie’s chest, sighing.  
  
“One s-second,” he murmured, tapping his fingers on Richie’s hipbone. Richie smiled and scratched his fingers through the thin hair on the nape of Bill’s neck, holding his hips still from grinding his still very present erection into Bill’s stomach. Just as his patience was waning Bill sat up on his knees. “Okay, I’m b-back to life,” he pulled the condom off and tossed it towards the nearby trash can, not bothering to check where it landed. He scooted backwards and bent forward so his breath ghosted over the tip of Richie’s cock, teasing for only a second before sliding his lips down the length. The first time he had done this a week ago Richie felt like he had suddenly unlocked one of Bill’s hidden talents, his plush lips wrapped perfectly around him. Now in the soft light Richie watched as those lips, reddened from needy kisses, dipped down and back up, Bill’s tongue tracing patterns.  
  
“Fuck,” he grasped at Bill’s hair, driving his hips up once, twice, three times until he came on Bill’s tongue, twisting his fingers roughly to pull him off when it became too much. Bill swallowed thickly, grinning up at him from where his cheek now rested on Richie’s thigh. A deep groan rumbled from Richie’s throat and he tugged at Bill’s hair to pull him up into a messy kiss, rolling them both onto their sides so he could hook his leg over Bill’s waist. He felt Bill smiling against his lips and couldn’t help when his own lips started to twist at the corners, euphoria bubbling in his chest and spilling out as happy laughter. He pulled Bill, also chuckling, against himself and tucked his chin into his auburn hair. When he spoke his voice was a lazy, rough drawl.  
  
“Not bad for a first timer.”  
  
“Whatever, t-trashmouth,” Bill pitched his voice up into a breathy whine, “Oh Bill, you’re so b-big!”  
  
“I calls em like I sees ‘em, not ashamed,” Richie rolled over to hold himself over Bill. “Still meant what I said, though, size isn’t everything.” Bill lifted himself to kiss Richie’s neck and mumble in his ear.  
  
“Gonna prove it to me next time, Tozier?”

\--

Richie held his eyes shut as he woke, listening to the sounds of Bill getting ready for his interview. He rolled slowly to face towards the window and away from the bathroom so he wouldn’t be caught, not wanting to have to talk about the interview, or about college at all. The shower squeaked off, the bathroom door creaked open, and he heard the shuffling of Bill pulling his pants on. Soon the door clicked open the shut again, a heavy, final sound.  
  
Richie finally opened his eyes, looking down to find the flimsy comforter balled up in his fist. The same energetic hum of the city that had excited him just hours before was suddenly a chaotic buzz drilling into his ear. He pulled the blanket over his head, topping it with a pillow and begged his head for sleep that wouldn’t come. August 13th. Ten days until orientation started at UCLA, nine until Richie was supposed to board the plane to California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more!


End file.
